


#MeToo

by Accio_Finn_Nelson7



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, My Mad Fat Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 73,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accio_Finn_Nelson7/pseuds/Accio_Finn_Nelson7
Summary: It's hard,  having a disorder that has you struggling to contain emotions but it's even harder when you're a loud mouth with an opinion on everything and anything. Beatrice Flowers is our twenty-three year old protagonist and lives in a village that you have probably never heard of, as it’s said ‘Nobody Likes You When You’re 23.’ Beatrice is loud, emotional and a feminist. We follow her through her highs and lows as she learns about her disorder and all that comes with it.  #MeToo is an all too truthful romance novel, of sorts, that gives you insight on what it’s like to live with Borderline Personality Disorder. BPD is a conquest on it’s own, but to add love into there? That’s a mix in it’s self.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

NEW BEGINNINGS.

  
They never tell you  
The news,  
The Internet,  
The people around you.  
  
Musicians, politicians,  
The colleague who’s been to one too many sexual harassment meetings  
The ex, the family friend who comes to dinner. Even the vicar, people who are  
meant to be a comfort to you. 

They never tell you  
They smile, just like you. They’re human, just like you. So  
that you never believe when you hear of the things they do. Until  
it happens to you.

They never tell you, the same smile on different faces hurt you.  
A smell, certain fabric triggers you. Even a simple touch,  
sets your teeth on edge. Just like how you gritted them together that night.

They never tell you, you become a statistic.  
If you ever have the balls to stand up, speak out.  
That’s what you’re supposed to do right? Stand  
up and fight for your sisters and brothers   
who can’t, who are too afraid.  
But what they don’t tell you is, you become  
a number. Another tick in a box, and when   
you don’t fit in that box do you keep your mouth shut like  
you should’ve shut your legs that night; well that’s what they say. For the blame  
is never on them.

They never tell you, you see their eyes in passer bys.  
Feeling as though they know, of the secret wedged between your thighs.   
How you feel as though the world knows, through  
the church gossip and hear say. _There’s that girl,_  
_it happened to her. Tut tut what did her mother teach her._

They never tell you, that when they strip you of your clothes  
do they strip you off your skin. Leaving you bare,  
prying hands touching you at their wish.  
Their shadow stitched to yours, so even on sunny days  
they are with you.

To all my brothers and sisters still fighting, this one’s for you.   
We’ve all got each other as we can come forward and say:

Me too.  


  
1.  
T  
he village was a mere rumble of the usual morning noise, heads down and eyes scoping out any particularly large puddles. When I’d gotten my interview, I’d made myself a promise that I would walk to work every morning to keep from myself from getting too lazy if I got the job, but on mornings like this, when the rain was pouring so heavily that it was bouncing up from the pavement and making sure I was soaked through twice over, that I regretted that promise I had made. But it was a promise nonetheless, and after receiving the phone call to say I had got the job; I refused to break it.   
Every single noise drowned out by the heavy downpour, the clouds throwing a tantrum that it was Monday again. If only I could do the same, people rushed past me. Not paying me any notice, nor I them. By the time I reached the caf’ I was soaked through, the saying “Drowned rat” Wouldn’t go amiss,

“Forget your umbrella again?”  
Kate. Lovely Kate, hair naturally red. Teeth unnaturally white, a favourite amongst customers,  
“Don’t,” Was all I could huff as I headed to the staff room, shedding myself free from the drenched jacket and bag. Hair tie stuck to my wrist as I peeled it off, throwing my hair up. Although I liked Kate, she could be smug; my unfortunates her choice of humour for the day. A sisterly bond somewhat,  
“You know, Bea, you’re supposed to dry off before you leave the shower,”  
Called Sam. Like Kate in prettiness but her hair was light and blonde. I stuck my tongue out at her, unlike Kate; Sam didn’t find humour in my lack of luck. More sympathy, feeling as though she needed to babysit me. Even though, we were a tiny two months apart in age. Her hands found their way to my shoulders, I groaned as she began guiding me out,   
“Come on, table two needs tea.”  
And so the day began. I was lucky enough to still be living at home with my mum, who didn’t force me to pay keep. Only throw in every now and again towards the bigger food shops, occasionally towards gas and electric if bills were a little higher. So, the part time job was more for sanity and if I wanted to treat myself to an online shop. I know, twenty-three and still living off my mother. Awful.   
I liked my job. Easy enough and it kept me occupied. Here in the cafe secrets were shared over bites of our famous chocolate cake and lattes. It was mainly only ever us three girls and the manager, except around Christmas time when seats would be filled to the brim as people shopped for loved ones and then would temporary staff be hired. Nobody was ever kept on, usually kids fresh out of school and trying to avoid college or university students trying to keep themselves afloat as the pressure of food bills mounted amongst studies,  
“Hey, Edith. Tea, was it?”  
Of course it was tea, Edith was a regular. I was her favourite, although she seemed cold; give her the time of day and she could tell you stories that would put explorers to shame. But once her husband died, she settled for life in the village; her grandchildren only ever visited during holidays. But Edith liked it, liked the peace. I smiled at her as she thanked me, I left her be. Edith was like me, don’t talk to us before our first hot brew of the morning.  
I headed back towards the counter, sliding the tray on as I moved back around. Sam was already in with the questions,  
“Fancy going to see a film tonight?”  
“I can’t, I have a hot date.”  
This sparked her interest, her little brown eyes wide with delight, “Ooh! Who with?”  
“My therapist,” I smiled upon seeing her disappointment, “Very exciting.”  
I never were shy when it came to therapy. Nor, what was going on inside my head. Sam was somebody I had knew for a long time, she being the one who helped me land the job,  
“It’s the new group session,”  
I watched Sam’s perfectly groomed brows knit together as she asked, picking up the cleaning rag as she began to wipe down the surface, “I thought you stopped going to them things.”  
“No, I tried but mum wouldn’t let me. Either that or I actually get, in her words, a proper job.”  
Sam mockingly grimaced on my behalf and a giggle was shared. Sam was like me, a little bit more well off as her dad was a property developer but like me; Sam took the job as a way of keeping sanity. I would with three older brothers too,  
“What time?”  
“I have to be there before six, apparently it’s an introduction. So thankfully I should be home in time for my soaps,”   
In all honesty, I was shitting myself. I was playing it off by using the words “Looney bin” And “Weirdos” The more I divulged Sam into the details I felt guilt. For, it was only to help me. Of course, I lied. I wasn’t being forced to go, for I was just as “Looney” As they, but according to my therapist; I wasn’t crazy. I was normal, I was just in a terrible situation. Well, had been through a terrible situation. In other words; shit happens, take these tablets and let me help,  
“Isn’t there some way you could make a deal with your therapist? Tell her to tell your mum that you’ve been but in reality, we’ve gone the cinema and had a brilliant night?”  
“As tempting as that sounds, and as cool as my therapist is. It’s not fair, I’ve told her I’ll try the one session, after tonight’s little meeting and if it doesn’t work out I’ll go back to one on one,”  
Sam shrugged at me, tossing the rag between her fingers, “Your loss, but if you change your mind me and Ryan Gosling shall be waiting with open arms,”  
And with that, she disappeared into the back. I really did debate for a moment on taking up Sam’s offer. But I knew Dr. Kerry, I knew she would be right on the phone to my mum. Although I was of age, my mum was still my power of attorney until I was mentally fit and brave enough to answer my own phone calls. So therefore, Dr. K wouldn’t hesitate to tell mother dearest I had missed the session. Which, was only fair,  
“Bea, table four. Coffee.”  
Our manager was, like most, a dick. Well, not completely. He let us take a few extra holidays than were allowed, slacked when telling us off if we were late coming off break and he was very understanding when it came to mental health; being a sufferer of anxiety himself. But sometimes, his attitude made me want to strangle him,  
“Derrick. Manners.”  
He disappeared after Sam into the back and I muttered a choice word under my breath. Back to the grind and all that. I thought about my meeting, I kept having to remind myself that if I didn’t like even so much as the meeting; I could say it just wasn’t for me. Sure, Dr. K would try and persuade me to give an actual session a try but I could always just say no and it would be back to the safety of her office. Just me and her, and the comfort space.  
I knew I just needed to try, try for mum, try for Dr. K   
and try for me.

  
****  
“How was work?”  
Ah, the automatic question my mother seemed to ask in attempt to make conversation. We were in the little hub in which the meetings were held, and the sessions. Colourful finger paintings and words of encouragement on laminated paper jotted about the place **‘IT’S OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY’ ‘A PROBLEM SHARED IS A PROBLEM HALVED’** to name a few, covering the bleak walls. The place was devoid of beauty as I were of hope. The room had an undertone of bleach and the floor was simply grey. At the door which was labelled ‘Cleaning’ were dispensers for rubber gloves, hand sanitizer and soap. Aside from the DIY paintings, I presumed were used in therapeutic activities, the place lacked in colour; which made me understand why people brought the most bright and happy flowers there were on hospital visits. Despite modern technological lives there is something in our nature that required natural beauty as part of the healing process.  
“Work was work.”   
My mother fingers flicked through a water stained magazine, I noticed it was a year out of date. But I pretend I didn’t notice, just to keep her from talking to me. I loved my mother, really. But when my dad left us, our peacekeeper, it made us realise he was our only common ground we had. Never one for that ‘Motherly Bond’ My mother was beautiful, kept up with the latest trends and did her best to keep herself and me afloat. But my problems were beginning to take toll on her face, faint lines deeper than the last time I noticed. I knew I was the source behind those permanent frown lines that now worn into a once creased free face, looking at her made me feel tired. There's a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity; for me it's when I'd like to temporarily dislocate my spirit from my body, as if I could ask God to take me out for just a short while, let my soul go wherever souls go to be zen,  
“Hi, are you here for the meeting?”  
A preppy, twenty-something woman appeared out of nowhere. Pretty, still energetic. Definitely new. My hand clutched my bag, fingers twiddling with the fabric. I looked nervously at my mother as two older women beside me rose from their seats. Mum told me good luck and she’ll be right there when I am finished; in other words - _Go_. Now I'm a fairly brave person, I am, but sometimes I just don't wanna feel the process of recovery all over again.   
I trailed behind them and we huddled together as another woman joined. She gave off the vibe of an authority figure trying to be ‘Down with the kids’ Hair short and spiked, chubbiness around the cheeks but a seriousness around her frown. Clipboard in hand,   
“Mary Wells?” I took note of the woman with the grey bob as she nodded. The little woman with the clipboard scribbled a skew-if tick next to the name,  
“Jordanne Hewitt?” The other lady beside me nodded, hair dark as the shadows under her eyes. I seemed to be the youngest so far. Another tick on the clipboard,  
“Beatrice Flowers?” It was my turn to nod and my turn to receive a tick. I hated to think it but I knew that’s all we were, ticks and boxes,  
“Right, I’m SJ. Follow me,” Abrupt and curt, like the little tips of her hair.   
The lady I now knew as SJ left us wondering who she could’ve been, was she a mentor? A patient who had been given a leader role with grabbing the newbies? Either way, there was something about her voice that made me want to say ‘Yes Ma’am’   
Follow is what we did, through the double doors and down the corridor. SJ and the other woman, I had yet to learn her name but I spotted she was particularly light on her feet, led us throughout corridor after corridor. They talked between one another, their tones hushed almost as though they knew some secret information us three were not allowed to be told. My boots scuffed against the bobbled and woollen carpet, almost tripping myself up. Naturally flat footed and slightly pigeon toed, not as bad as I once were thanks to prescription shoes,  
“If you could all just find a seat and Kerry will start us off,”  
SJ used the clipboard as a form of direction as she pointed it inside the open door. It felt odd hearing my therapist being called just ‘Kerry’ I don’t know whether it was just my manners that had been drilled into my brain, but anything other than Doc or Dr. Kerry felt disrespectful to me. Mary was the first to go in, Jordanne and then myself. It wasn’t as ‘Straight jacket’ As I expected, more comforting in fact. Pressed against the wall on the left was a table, which had on it an assortment of small cakes and biscuits, sandwiches cut into triangles; which a mixture in gender and age occupied. Some loitered around those horrible fold out chairs I hadn’t seen since school and prayed I wouldn’t see again. Sort’ve, claiming them; almost scared that the fresh meat were going to come in and steal them. SJ and the happy one wandered off to the people that occupied the spread, including Dr. Kerry who laughed and smiled between bites and sips.   
I took my seat, wedged between a young girl and a middle aged woman who looked just as nervous as I did about this whole situation. Which didn’t settle my nerves, for if they weren’t new and they ripped away at their nails what hope did I have? If I had come into a room with sofas, people sat on the floor, sat where they wanted to be and free to arrive either ten minutes early or ten minutes late or whenever they wanted, there would have been the slight possibility that I would feel comfortable; that I would walk in there and just relax a little bit, and feel more like I could open up and talk about whatever it was she thought I needed to talk about. Well, if they asked me anything for after a quick panic did Dr. Kerry reassure me this was just a meeting; a little taster on how the group ran,  
“Time.”  
One of the members called out and it was a sudden flurry of chaos as people forced down the last of their biscuits and sandwiches, careful not to spill their drinks as they found a seat. Dr. Kerry was the only one who didn’t take a seat, she slowly wandered into the middle, looking around the circle and clapping her hands together. “Hi, everyone.” She greeted, the chirpiest I had ever seen her, “How are we all?”  
“Good,” A reply that was given in unison,  
“Excellent, so, as you all know this is just a little filler session to introduce our wonderful new three to how things work!” I sunk a little further into my seat as Dr. Kerry continued talking about what it meant us all being there that day, what we had to gain from it, and I decided this was my perfect opportunity to zone out, and scope the room. The first person who caught my eye was a young girl, she must have still been in school. I could see how she was holding in her tears, entirely intimidated by the situation. I felt for her, I really did. I had a tough exterior most of the time, which was something I was thankful for, and something she didn’t possess. She was terrified, and I really felt for her. The only other person who really grabbed my attention alongside the girl was a middle-aged man, his short hair sticking to his forehead thanks to the sweat, and he was just shaking. He couldn’t stop shaking. He was gripping his hands together on the top of his knees like he was praying, and maybe he was. The image I’d had in my head about the day was nothing compared to the real thing.  
I had come to learn that SJ and the little happy one I now knew was called Rachel, were group members. They were a part of the group’s ‘Council’ The top dogs. Veterans, etc. There was a democracy that all members would vote in over anything and everything even so much as whether they wanted the light switching off. There was the ‘Lunch Leader’ This included ordering lunches for the group over the phone, something I already sweated at the thought of, bringing in milk and tea bags, etc. I discovered this current role was in the hands of another lady also named Mary. She was really lovely, bubbly but I could tell her niceness were thanks to nervous energy; anxiety ridden. The trickle of un wiped sweat dampening her unkempt fringe giving her away, but she was sweet nonetheless.  
I caught her eye one or two times and she kept giving smiles of encouragement, the kind you would see a mother giving her child in their school play or waving them off on their first day. Two main rules were given in the group:  
The rule of ‘TIME’  
And the rule of ‘NO FRIENDSHIPS OR CONTACT OUTSIDE OF THE GROUP’

Time.  
Although this were a group where you were free to talk about whatever, within reason. Time was structured and it were not allowed to be ignored, no matter how upset or deeply furious you were with something; once time was called were you to be cut off. This also included with learning to be on time to sessions, of course traffic and other unchangeable circumstances were understandable; as long as you contacted the group; contact this led to rule no.2

Friendships and contact.  
This appeared to be something of a huge ‘NO NO’ Within the group. It stopped people from buddying up, to not allow anybody else feel left out or jealous and stir up psychological issues that were deep rooted.

I kind of liked this rule, ‘FOMO’ Or, Fear of Missing Out was something I struggled with and something I wanted to tackle during my time here, if I were to continue. Social cues were never my strong point since young and I would often find myself in tears as a child; feeling as though nobody wanted to be my friend. When in reality, I was just naturally awkward and children often opted to be pals with the easier kids. Fair enough.  
The group members all had a role, they all spoke nothing of praise about how it’s dynamics worked. Although a little hard to understand, I got the gist. It gave you a sense of importance and a routine and the longer I stayed, the more I found myself liking the idea. People chatted animatedly to the three of us, preaching like salesmen trying to get you to buy. Dr. Kerry was now sat and I followed her eyeline secretly as she had grew quiet whilst the group talked to each other, and us.   
It was SJ. Her face was flat of any emotion, staring at nothing. Lips tight. Dr. Kerry’s arms were folded and I knew that look, the analysing, the ‘Remember I’m your therapist not your friend’ Look, 

“SJ, why don’t you tell us about-”  
“I’m not SJ.” Okay, maybe sometimes my hearing was a little bad but I definitely knew that her name was SJ, there was something about the blank stare and the abrupt warning that unsettled me. The voices around me quietened, still trying to talk and draw our attention to them but enough to make sure SJ hadn’t gone unheard. Dr. Kerry leaned over to Rachel and whispered something, which was nodded at. My eyes followed as Rachel instructed silently with her finger for Mary, the lunch leader, to follow and they guided SJ out of the room quietly and the volume in the room rose once more.  
Between the sweating of the man and SJ’s warning; I felt a sense of personal normality. Dr. Kerry had definitely got the suggestion of trying this wrong, I wasn’t as sick as those unfortunate around me. I was, in fact, _normal_. Although I had a diagnosis under my belt, I didn’t feel like I was as poorly as those within the group. It appeared I was what they classed as “Functioning” I had a job, showered and dressed myself. Although, I was erratic when it came to spending my wages; I wasn’t doing too bad of a job.

Ask me again when I’m in one of my ‘Moods.’ Or “Episodes” As my mum called it.

“Time!”  
Had it really been an hour? The room came to life again as the group dispersed, some headed for the food table and some headed straight outside; cigarette packets clutched in their hands. The dull atmosphere lightened, happy chatter took over as though the little mishap never happened. The rule of time being taken serious. I lingered in my seat for a moment, wondering when was the right moment to leave without being rude. I found myself wanting to say goodbye, even though the group seemed not to pay me any notice; and I took this as my cue to leave.

I kept my head down as I scurried out into the corridor, now hoping Dr. Kerry wouldn’t call me back, asking what I thought. I didn’t have the heart to tell her this wasn’t for me, she must’ve got it wrong. I was normal.  
“Omph!” My feet almost came out from under me, fingers gripped my arms and kept me up. Eyes in the shade of Jade greeted me, wide with worry,  
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you,” The voice was deep, not deep-deep but smooth. Relaxing.   
“I know I’m small, but I’m not that bloody small,” I huffed, making sure nothing had fell out of my bag. I heard a vibrating hum of gentle laughing, the laughter flickered something in my chest. I looked up at the stranger and I would be lying if I said he wasn’t ridiculously handsome. His eyes were soft, downturned and feminine. Cat-like. Hair coiffed out of his face, curls brown with golden undertones that wound masterfully within one another. His smile was bright and it was now I noticed the freckle that kissed the corner of his mouth, a dimple accompanied it as it left an impression deep within his cheek. He smelt of washing powder and an aftershave I recognised but couldn’t quite put my finger on. To say he was handsome, was in fact quite the understatement. He seemed to find my little quip about my height amusing,  
“No, sorry I was on my phone and I... You’re from the meeting right?” He pointed a finger at me, eyes narrowed and questioning but not standoffish, more reminding himself. I nodded, I couldn’t quite place whether he was there. Sometimes my anxiety seemed to blur my memory, hazing it a little. Dr. Kerry called this ‘Disassociation’ A trigger which helps the brain to deal with it, sort’ve numbing you so you can cope - something like that,  
“Sorry, I... I didn’t quite catch your name?”  
He extended his hand at this, “Issac. Issac Waters,”  
I took the shake. His grip was firm, warm, friendly, “Bea. Bea Flowers.”  
We pulled a part and was unsure of what to do next, I pointed forward and made the first move,  
“My mum’s waiting for me... I... Nice to meet you.”  
Ah, Beatrice, ever so smooth.   
“Did you like it?”  
I turned to him, I really wanted to leave. I could feel my cheeks getting warmer,  
“Yeah, it was okay,”  
“Good. Are you coming to the session Tuesday?”  
“Yeah maybe,”  
He nodded at this and I could see he wanted to ask something else. I didn’t want to answer. I swivelled on my heels, head down. Reminding myself not to trip. Cause that would be the finisher, me going arse over tit.

****  
My mum chewed my ear off as soon as we got into the car, _how was it? What were the people like? Do you want to go back?_ The anxious trait inherited from her, but hers she refused to get diagnosed. My mum came from a time of stiff upper lips and being told to get on with it. She blamed the new wave of phones and television for the sudden uprising of depression and anxiety statistics. I replied as bluntly as I could manage, irritation gnawing at my chest. Like when you hit a particularly sore snag in your hair when combing through it. She got the hint, a cigarette toying between her middle and index finger.   
I sometimes didn’t recognise when I was being harsh, it coming out of nowhere. It just bubbled and bubbled, and only the pressure was relieved by being abrupt. We were home as quickly as we left, mum itched for a glass of wine whilst I itched for my room. I didn’t wait for her as I paved my way up the steps, key in the lock and the door swung open. I was home,

“I’ll be in my room.”  
I didn’t wait for a reply, feet dancing up the stairs. Excited for my blankets and to be changed. But that would have to wait, for Sam’s name flashed on my phone as soon as my foot stepped into my bedroom. Waiting on the other end to hear how it went. Would it be rude to ignore it? Of course it would. She was only being a good friend,

“Aha you’re alive!” She joked, an under bite of nervousness and relief,  
“Yes, my darling. Here I am,”  
I began shedding my coat and flicked away my shoes, phone cradled between my shoulder and ear,  
“So, how’d it go?”  
“It... Went,” I sighed, sinking back onto my bed, “It was, really bizarre,”  
I broke the rule of ‘What goes on in the group stays in the group’ I wouldn’t be lying if I said I felt guilty, but given that I wasn’t entirely sure I would be going back I wasn’t obliged to keep it a secret. I dove in, speaking of how it worked, SJ’s little personality switch, etc. I downplayed it, speaking Sam’s language and breaking it down for her in the easier and shorter terms. The conversation then turned to Issac, Sam’s dulcet tones suddenly perked up,  
“Issac? I-ss-ac” She repeated, annunciating the pronunciation, “Hmm, different.”  
“Yeah, I know. I thought that and I also thought he was too good looking to be a patient there,”  
“Was he fit?”  
I threw myself back and exhaled, “Unreal, Sam there’s no way he’s from round here,”  
“Wow, do you reckon he was like one of the therapists?”  
“Or possibly a volunteer, definitely not one of _us_ ,”  
The word ‘Us’ Felt strange to say. Almost as though I had plonked myself right in there, again for somebody so undecided; my words said otherwise. Sam moved on to something else, the excitement of a boy came and went, I knew she found it uncomfortable. Her friend being the kind of poorly that paracetamol couldn’t fix and her being not experienced in the area, it was understandable. She wasn’t naive, nor judgemental but even I opted to avoid talking about it,  
“Hmm?” I hadn’t realised I had dosed out of the conversation, being brought too upon my name being spoken. My mind ever wandering,  
“Are you going to go back?”  
I thought about it, in fact I hadn’t _stopped_ thinking about it. Weighing out all my options, the pros surprisingly outweighing the cons. Well, of course they were. I was silly to have thought different, I knew the group was strange but I was lucky to have being sat in the same room as them. For the waiting list was twice the length of my arm, dating back to as long as a two year wait. Which had me wondering, why were I such a priority? I wasn’t in a crisis, I wasn’t hanging on by a thread. There was people who were begging for my spot. Would I be selfish to take it? Did I really need it? I knew I needed something, possibly less intense but I knew Dr. Kerry had a good reason for putting me forward, she wasn’t stupid. She saw something that I was unaware of,

“Yeah.”


	2. Chapter 2

I  
t's that day of drowning, here again, the cold wash only I can feel. I don't want to get up. I don't want to move at all. The weight of something seemed to press down on my shoulders and chest, slumping my posture. A day of ready meals that take little effort and endless television, that’s how I deal with it. My mother is as useless as I, again the maternal bond we never formed leaving her helpless,  
“What’s with the face?”  
I frowned as I began making up a cup of coffee, my energy draining the more I move.   
“Wha’?”  
“ _Wha_ ’” She mocked, setting my teeth on edge, “Cheer up Charlie, the world’s not ending.”  
She tapped my shoulder in her styles of comfort once before moving around me and swiping the drink. I could only watch, mouth slightly open. Although annoyed I would have to make another brew, the little movement was impressive. I started up with the coffee making once more, only this time my actions were a little more loud and passive aggressive,  
“Darling, you’ll put a hole through the cup if you carry on stirring,”  
I flexed my hand out before curling it into a fist, tempted to slam it down. I threw my spoon in the sink and pulled a face behind my mum’s back before moving over to the other end of the couch, legs up and tucked underneath me. I blew the steam away from my face before taking a sip. Still hot, hot enough to burn my chest. But the feeling of a hot brew burning through me helped me feel a sense of grounding for just a moment.  
Grounding. A psychiatrist’s term. Spend enough time with them and you begin to talk like them,  
“Why do you always wear those shirts, Bea? They’re ratty,”  
I rolled my eyes. I knew this was mum’s way of trying to get something out me that wasn’t sadness, trying to provoke me over dad’s old t-shirts was her way of asking me to talk to her. Normally, I would’ve responded something witty or quick but today I couldn’t. My battery leaking from me like electricity,   
“They’re comfy,” I admitted. My dad was, well is, twice the height and width of me. His old t-shirts he had passed on to me, on my last obligatory visit. He had been hitting the gym since the divorce, the shirts a lot smaller than the last time he wore them. So in an attempt to keep up the good father role, he gave them to me. They weren’t shoved to the back of the wardrobe like most kids would’ve done with a vengeance against their estranged dad, they were worn nightly as I loved my dad dearly. The colour fading from being washed continually,   
“They’re tat,”  
“Maybe I like tat.”  
She tutted, drinking what was my drink. When I had brought them home, she laughed at it. Mocking sarcastically that he must be a _brilliant_ father if he sends his child home with a box of t-shirts that haven’t seen sunlight since ‘02. I don’t know what it is about when people laugh and I’m not in on the joke does it pull something at my chest and causes me to cry, my heart heavy inside me. I remember feeling my lip tremble and I ran upstairs to my room, warning myself not to cry until my door was shut. Maybe I felt guilty, that dad wasn’t there to defend himself and he just wanted to do something nice for me? Embarrassment that they weren’t brand new, perhaps? Whatever it was, I wouldn’t wish the feeling or paranoia on anybody.  
“Have you brushed your hair today?”  
“I’ve just about brushed my teeth, mum,”  
“Beatrice, that’s disgusting.”  
I hated when I got called Beatrice, she knew this. My mum could be spiteful when she wanted to be, knowing she weren’t winning the argument did she begin to dig under my skin. Setting up camp on my last nerve,   
“I’m going upstairs.”  
I kicked my legs off the couch, pulling myself up,  
“I’m just trying to help, Bea,”  
I ignored her. I knew she was, I knew she was trying to salvage our relationship before it was lost forever and we only spoke through the phone on birthdays and Christmas when I was long gone with my husband and two kids; possibly with a Labrador named Max. Actually scratch that, they make me itch. I know, it’s tragic.  
My room was my safe place, little pots of greenery placed around and vibrant tapestry jotted about along with framed pictures and vintage pieces. Records lined neatly along a shelf, a little tv and a wide bed covered in pillows and throws. Fairy lights tied it together, old with touches of modern. Mum helped me put it together, she had a good eye when it came to interior. I told her my vision and she brought it to life, naturally talented when it came to what looked good and what was tacky,  
“ _Bea! I’m going the shops!_ ”  
“Kay!”  
This was our way of saying you’re still alive? Okay, good. Impulsiveness was another thing that was a trait of mine, and mum always panicked in case I attempted to off myself to spite her for saying dad’s shirts were tasteless. I wouldn’t. I may be impulsive, but I’m not stupid. I’ve got my head screwed on, I’m not as bad as I was. I waited until I heard the door shut and her car to fade into the background before I took my cigarettes out of my drawer. Mum knew I smoked, but as an agreement I would wait until she was out of the house or I was; for she didn’t think the habit suited me. Not worried about her daughter getting the black lung, more how I _looked_ whilst smoking. I sat back against my pillows as I lit one, inhaling and filling my chest with smoke before exhaling. Eyes lazing on the tv, flicking ash into the little glass on my bed.   
I could feel my lips twitch into something of a smile at the television. A character I favoured said something witty. I liked the show, imaging I was the witty and quick main character, with their own place and a normal chemical balance. I wished I lived on my own, with a quirky best friend who lived above me; somebody I could bash a mop up at the ceiling and they’d come join me. We’d sit back with hot tea and watch old sitcoms. I’d have a huge DVD collection people would comment on when they would come round, my flat being the choice of the hangout. I felt almost, quarantined at home. Locked down from the freedom of doing what I wanted to do. But it was nothing compared to the ward, again I don’t call it time at the ward. I called it Quarantine and only people in my circle knew what I was referring to when I mentioned it. I made a list when I was in there and this was what I learned:

1\. How to spell quarantine   
2\. April has a lot of storms In the middle of the night in the East (According to the news.)   
3\. I can read a book in a total of 3 days (cause I was absolutely bored out of my damn mind)   
4\. I have a unhealthy obsession with the news and all it’s bad telling (hmm who knew)   
5\. My sleep schedule was and still is terrible.   
6\. Snapchat is a bitch for not working every second.   
7\. I’m more of a night person than a morning person.   
8\. I can sleep a whole day (This was rarely allowed for they wanted you to have a routine.)   
9\. Food is VERY important.   
10\. My phone battery dies so quickly.   
11\. I can pull 4 all nighters before realizing I really need sleep.   
12\. My family can hardly stand me, their lack of visits proved this.

My time in Quarantine was dull. It even had me making a list, apparently the patron of the ward found this interesting. Praising me for using my time wisely. I did it to keep my sanity. Anyway. back to current; I go back to therapy tomorrow. To the group, Dr. K was delighted to hear I wanted to come back, telling me it was good I was giving it a chance, how I’ll benefit how I’ll learn from it blah blah blah. I just hoped to see Issac again. Ever since I’d made the agreement, I’d been waiting for my sanity to snap back into place, for it all to click in my head that this was too much. But it never did come, I knew I was wrong for basing my decision because of a boy I wasn’t even sure he was going to be attending. But it still helped sway my decision and it pleased those around me, so, it couldn’t have been that bad of an idea.  
Right?

****  
I was back in the room with the fold out chairs. The actual sessions were held earlier in the day, they started at exactly 11:30. Lunch came at exactly 1pm and the second half started at 2pm. Very rigid and very strict in timing. Again, timing meant everything to them. Issac was here, despite my fear and unlike last time where I hadn’t noticed him I couldn’t help but watch him. He barely glanced at me, eyes glued to one of the other patients who was currently in a bout of tears. Sobs harder and louder with every word. The atmosphere in the room was a lot darker, heavier than last. Everybody’s eyes narrowed and brows creased in the centre as a way to show they were listening.  
It was now I noticed his tattoos, ink stretched and splashed across his slim forearms and biceps. The cuff of his t-shirt obstructed my view from seeing how far up they reached, not enough for a sleeve but not enough to be sparse; only small spots of freshly tanned skin peeking out underneath. He caught my eye and I quickly looked away, pretending I was listening to the cries,  
“And.... And then he said he was s-sorry but I knew he wasn’t and-”  
“Time,” One of the patients glumly called, apologetic they had to interrupt. The man who currently cried was the man I recognised as the one who caught my attention last time, forehead trickled with sweat and knees uncontrollably shaking. The room lightened and Dr. K put her hands together as she announced,  
“Right everybody, that’s our time for today. Same time next week,”  
The crying man, who’s name I learnt was Kevin, looked around helplessly. I had learnt he was still rather new to the sessions, the time rule threw him off and I could see he was desperate to try and vent more. Dr. K made her way over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. I tuned my ears in as best I could and I could only guess she was trying to comfort him without being unprofessional. I watched as the room dispersed, people already leaving in twos; chatting away happily as if they hadn’t just been told about Kevin’s unfaithful spouse. It baffled me,  
“You alright?”  
Issac.  
“Yeah, I just,” I took a moment, unsure of what was the appropriate terms that I could say, “Wow,”  
He let out a little chuckle, his laughter was melodic. Harmonious. I rose out of my seat, my cold coffee now clutched between my fingers and palm in the little polystyrene cup and my bag over my shoulder. He offered to walk me out and I made the first move, following behind the stragglers. I tossed a glance at Kevin and Dr. K, and my heart could only feel heavy. I could think of nothing worse dedicating my life to somebody and find out they wanted to dedicate theirs to someone else,

“I know, the sessions are sometimes a little intense but they’re not always like that. It’s just been one of those weeks.” He spoke this in referral to everybody seeming to have a bad week, it settled me knowing I wasn’t the only who found trying to not sweat over the little things a struggle. I tossed my cup in a waste disposal we passed, the plastic bag crinkling under the new weight,  
“Yeah, poor Kevin God I coul-”  
He put a finger up at me, eyebrows flickering up. A quiet reminder that we couldn’t talk about it. I could feel my face twitch, apologetic and cringing,  
“Shit. Sorry I...”  
Another smile, “It’s fine, I found it hard too. You get used to it,”  
“Oh! Are you a patient here?”  
I asked, trying to find out exactly what he was doing here. I knew he was too good looking to actually be a perfectly well, functioning person,  
“I was. I got discharged, missed the place and now I volunteer,”  
“Do you like it?”  
I didn’t want the corridor to end. I hoped my mother was running late so I could get a few extra minutes with him, I hoped she had wandered off somewhere to occupy herself. He nodded, holding the heavy door that led outside open for me. I smiled thankfully and he followed behind me as I led the way,  
“Want one?”  
His words came out a little mumbled as the orange tip dangled from his lips, the open carton pointed towards me. I took one gratefully and thanked him, we lit up our cigarettes and talked. Nothing interesting, just... Well, talked,  
“Nice docs,”  
His eyes flickered down at my boots, smiling. I scuffed them lightly at the ground as I followed his line of vision, our eyes glanced back up at each others,  
“Thanks, mum doesn’t like them but I’ve had them for years. They make me feel bad ass,”  
It was now I noticed the faint, bed-sheet creases that danced around his eyes as he laughed quickly through a puff of smoke, I had never realised how extraordinary his eyes were until that very moment. Every flick and burst of his life seemed to be held within the whirling emerald colour. Each beautiful characteristic I presumed he possessed bursting brightly as though desperate to reach further than his eyes allowed them,  
“Well, Beatrice Bad Ass they’re cool. I like them,”  
“It’s Bea,” I groaned, this alerted him, “I _hate_ the name Beatrice. It sounds like I’m 70 and own an antique shop,”   
“But it’s your name, own it. It’s nice,”  
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, I tried to disguise it behind my cigarette. Each word dripped with charisma and flattered me. I presumed a lot of women and girls had fallen victim to it. I caught the burning eyes of my mother who waited impatiently in the car, waving at me. I sighed and stubbed out the cigarette against the brick, tossing it into the bin,  
“Well, I’ve gotta go. Thanks for the smoke, and the chat,”  
His eyebrows lifted as he waved to my mum, turning back to me,  
“See you soon, Beatrice Bad Ass.”  
****  
It happened again, the crying. I very rarely cried compared to my younger years, before I knew what was wrong and now that I knew it was as though I had turned the tap off. Only now and again would it burst, and it was usually over something small. Today, it was because I had made my cup of tea wrong. I’d put in too much milk, the colour turning a clouded white and it was enough to make me cry. Tears wetting my cheeks, blubbering sobs hiccuping from me,  
“I’m such an idiot.”  
I felt my mum’s hand squeeze my shoulder, guiding me away from the poorly made tea. She led me to the living room and instructed me to sit. I did what was asked, tucking my knees up to my chest and sinking into my seat,  
“Bea, this can’t go on. We need to speak to the doctor,”  
“I’m fine,” I whimpered, “I’m just, tired. I think.”  
I felt rarely happy any more and when I did appear happy, it was thanks to the manic warmth that spread across my chest. I preferred the sadness to the manic feeling, for the sadness I could manage. I could curl blankets around myself and shut the world out. With the manic, it’s like my body had been given a fresh set of batteries and I wasn’t in control. My movements jittery and eyes wild, unable to do enough things at once. I think mum preferred the sadness too, for with the manic came the chatter and my relentless talking often would exhaust her as the words would tumble out of my mouth and I wasn’t entirely sure what I was saying half the time. The sadness gave her a little break,   
“Well maybe they need to up your dosage, you didn’t even cry this bad when your dad left us,”  
He didn’t leave us. He left her. I wanted to remind her, but I held my tongue. Unfair as just because I was sad, and angry, and woeful didn’t mean she had to be. I shook my head, wiping away snot and tears that dripped from my nose on the back of my hand. I couldn’t be bothered saying anything, I knew it would come off as spiteful and cold. She gave my knee a gentle squeeze and left me to it. Knowing her daughter well enough to leave alone. There was another stage that met in the middle of sadness and manic. Hollow. Not enough to be sad, not enough to feel hyperactive. A sort’ve, mundane feeling. This one, I hated most. I even preferred being manic over it, at least I would feel something. It was like I wanted to cry, frustrated coming up empty. It was there, my toes would teeter over the edge and then I’d be pulled backwards. At least with the sadness, I released some of the emotion that I held.   
I attempted to steady my breathing, holding in the inhaling and slowly releasing in a big exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. A breathing exercise that had been moulded into my memory, I couldn’t forget it even I wanted to. It never helped though. It just seemed to make the crying worse, the exhaling coming out as shaking little sobs. I hated this, I hated this little shell I wallowed in. If rating adult life was allowed it would be currently getting one star:  
**Bullshit. Would not recommend.**

****  
The sun had bullied the rain clouds out of the sky, pouring through and paving the ground in basks of yellow gold. The high street was a flourish of people. The streets were narrow, but lively. People lingered around doorsteps as they talked. Children ran between legs, high off of sugar and sunshine. Souvenir stores thrived, colourful displays of different collectibles hung around outside; attracting visitors. I being one of the unlucky ones stuck indoors, faint trickles of sweat lingered around my forehead; quickly reappearing when I wiped it away,  
“God, I’m boiling,” Sam puffed beside me as she served out a coffee in a takeaway cup to a customer, sliding it over with a smile. We were reluctant to talk to one another today, the heat from the machines and sudden rise in customers swallowed our energy to converse. I just wanted to do my shift and get out in the sunshine. It was my turn to hand over a coffee with a smile and my eyes moved to the end of the counter, frowning as I recognised the smile,  
“Issac?”  
“In the flesh,”  
I wandered over, hand on hip as I tried to come across as though I wasn’t phased,  
“What are you doing here? Stalking me?”  
His forearms were now leaned on the counter, sunglasses pushed to his hairline and settled,   
“As tempting as that is, I’m here to see Kate.”  
Disappointment pooled inside me, dripping from my chest and festering in my stomach. I knew it, I knew he was too pleasant to be single. Of course he would be dating Kate, who wouldn’t want to date Kate? She was tall, a nice face and a body to match,  
“Some boyfriend you are, not knowing she isn’t in today,”  
Sarcasm. My forte. The wash rag danced between my hands, finding something to cover my nerves and upset. Guilt, a prime feeling for the fact I had slobbered over my work mate’s boyfriend. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, eyes twinkling with interest,  
“Relax, I’m her friend,”  
“Oh,”   
The relief that pulled my shoulders upwards was obvious. As much as I tried to hide it. Sam joined me and spoke,   
“Bea, I’m going on break,” Her fingers were beginning at the knot in her apron, I nodded and told her to enjoy it before I turned back to Issac. Aware of how Sam never introduced herself, but I did notice a sudden pink tinge to her cheeks and a fluster in her tones,  
“So, can I get you anything?”  
He shook his head, the shine of his hair bright in the drifting sunlight that poured through the windows,  
“No, but you can answer my question.”  
I could feel my right eyebrow arch, curious as to what this could be,  
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your question?”  
“What are you doing after work?”  
His long fingers were now playing with the little paper straws in the steel container, thumb and index twiddling and fiddling them. More interested in how they moved than looking at me,  
“Nothing, why?”  
“Fancy going for a drink? It’s nice out, The Dock does really good cocktails.”  
It was now he looked at me and it took a moment for it to click, I frowned,  
“Are you asking me out?”  
“Well, are you saying yes?”  
“Are you allowed to do that?” My questioning tones came out child-like, as though I was asking permission to say a really naughty word,  
“I’m only a volunteer,” He mocked me, eyes wide and his mouth letting out a sarcastic, small gasp. I stiffened at this, suddenly defensive,  
“Yeah but, we’re not allowed contact outside of the group,”  
“That they know about,” He pointed out casually, like he had just asked me what was on the menu. Not asking me to break one of the only rules the group gave, “Don’t look so scared, Bea, loads of them do it. Hanging out together, not going for a drink. Well, one or two do, the drinking I mean,”  
“You’re rambling,”  
“I know, it’s a nervous habit,”  
“Why are you nervous?”  
“Because you haven’t said yes.”  
I eyed him for a moment, trying to analyse him. Find out exactly what his game was, was this a test? A secret initiation that I had to be put through before the real therapy began. He stared me down, a daring glint shining in his eyes as he asked,  
“I thought you were Beatrice Bad Ass?”  
“I finish at 5, I’ll meet you at The Dock as long as you stop calling me Beatrice Bad Ass.”

****  
“So, do you this with all the newbies?”  
“Only the special ones.”  
I liked Issac, although he was a little strange. Eccentric, rather. But there was something about his personality that had you pulled in, he oozed charm like it was natural. Most men I knew forced something that couldn’t even touch him. He was polite, a nice smile. Asking for anything more in somebody was just greedy. I sipped on my straw, the sugar of the mocktail scratching away at my teeth. The Docks was a more upscale bar, compared to the very limited selection around the village. It was new, like a baby surrounded by the old and wise. It’s grey coating put the dull colouring of the others to shame.   
I wasn’t a big drinker, Issac seemed confused by this. He let out a cry, asking how do I deal with social situations. Pull somebody who I find attractive. Deal with people who were beyond tipsy and slurring bollocks down my ear. I didn’t, I told him. I was never one for parties, I left out that because I was a total nightmare when drunk. I didn’t have a drinking problem, drinking I was great at. It was the stopping I struggled with,  
“So, Beatrice Bad Ass,” He placed his pint glass down, again polite as he placed it on the beer mat, “What do you like to do aside the group and work?”  
“Who said I liked work, or the group?”  
“Well do you?”  
“Yes.”  
“So, I’ll ask again what do you like to do?”  
I had hoped I could avoid talking about myself, for the cool persona Issac possessed anything I said was boring in comparison. I knew it would be, my finger began toying with the rim of my obnoxiously large glass,  
“I like to read,”  
Maybe I was being naive, maybe the sun was getting to my head but I could’ve sworn his eyes twinkled with something. Real interest,  
“Really? What do you like to read?”  
I wanted to say how I was a lover of old literature. Reading the likes of Jane Austin, or Hemingway. How I found Plath’s works speaking to my equally as tortured soul. Although I favoured the likes of Edgar Allen Poe, teen fiction was my favourite. I had a bit of a short attention span, so the quick style of writing was easier to grasp,  
“Edgar Allen Poe,” I quickly answered, my love for what I really read crying out for attention to be spoken about. I wasn’t particularly lying, I had his entire works. From his earlier pieces to the more popular, there was something about Issac that made me want to impress him,  
“Poe hm? Nice,”  
That wasn’t the answer I was exactly hoping for. I was wanting praise, telling how I was so cool for not reading magazines. Suave and sophisticated for not being brain dead like girls he knew, I know. I know, I’m a bad feminist for pitting my own sex against myself. I will make up for it, I’ll join the next protest. I promise,  
“What do you like to do?”  
He thought about this. His eyebrows dropping, concealing his eyes from me as he racked his brain for an answer. He took longer than what was needed, for it was starting to make me think he had dropped it all together. His eyes came to light again and a smile teased his mouth,  
“Flowers, I like flowers. I hope to open my own shop someday,”  
“What’s your favourite flower?  
“Easy, sunflowers.”  
“Mine too, it’s my birth flower.”  
The little added information was not something he needed to know, but it naturally rolled off of my tongue. I knew the drink had nothing but sugar in, but I seemed to be getting drunk off of Issac’s attention. Wanting to divulge him in bits and pieces of my life I didn’t seem to disclose with anybody else or maybe because I talked too much about myself and people were bored and that’s why nobody asked me anything else. I knew if I let anything else slip, he would end up being the same,  
“So... How long have you lived around here for?”  
I was hopeful that the more I asked him things, the more I could take the shine off of myself and not let any more useless information come out. I could tell he was like myself, protective of himself. Not sure whether I was being genuine or treating the conversation as a joke,  
“A few years. I’m from up North originally. Hence the accent,”  
He eyed his glass, disgruntled. As though I had touched a nerve I didn’t realise my fingers were hovering over. The nice Issac I knew suddenly clouded by the darkening in his eyes. Again, social cues weren’t my strong point but even I knew when I had annoyed somebody,  
“I-I’m sorry,”  
His eyes lightened, the cheekiness of his smile returning. Fingers no longer twiddling with the beer mat,  
“Why?”  
“I, I don’t know,” I admitted, unsure of why I was apologising. For whatever he didn’t want to talk about, he should’ve clarified instead of leaving me to stumble into an unwanted conversation,  
“I’m... I’m just sorry,” I could feel the heat around my jaw curl around my cheeks, I blamed the sun,  
“Do you always apologise for nothing?” His eyes were questioning but his smile was teasing, like he enjoyed people stuttering around him. I couldn’t work him out, it was like the moment you got past the pleasantries and _almost_ dug something up; he snapped shut again,  
“Sometimes, but I’m working on it.”  
He seemed satisfied with this, relief relaxed his shoulders that we had taken the conversation off of him. It was strange, finding myself careful of what I spoke about. For the people I knew were naturally open, those being the ones who had to tread on egg shells around me. Although I never broke down in front of them, they still opted to be careful in case the outburst they dreaded happened. I felt, almost, powerless. The words I was unsure I could speak rendered me speechless. Myself and Issac had found ourselves in a moment of silence, I found it awkward. He seemed to find it peaceful, his stresses floating away with the bubbles in his drink,   
“How are you finding the group?”  
“Are we allowed to talk about it?”  
“Bea, again, relax. As long as don’t give away we did this, we’re fine. We’re safe,”  
I kind of _wanted_ people to know we had done this, proudly parading about that Issac had chose me to spend his precious time with. Women around us seemed to eye me enviously, although they never were vocal towards me, I could see them peering at me out of the corner of their eye,  
“It’s okay, but I’ve only been the once so I can’t really judge,”  
“It gets better,” He reassured, “There’s good weeks, and bad weeks but it’s helpful I mean if it helped me it must be good.”  
“ Why? What’s so bad about you?” I hadn’t meant to have asked, hadn’t meant to come across as abrupt but the question slipped from my mouth naturally. I expected him to cut me off with something random, a subject change, avoiding it. I was surprised to see a subtle smirk threaten the corners of his mouth as his voice grew thick,  
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

****  
“Your face looks bony, hasn’t your mother been feeding you?”  
My little outing with Issac had been and gone, it was pleasant. Awkward in parts, but once we were passed that did conversation naturally flow. We now texted often, nothing too extraordinary. Just little messages back and forth. Although he seemed as though he actively chose not too reveal too much of anything, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Often finding myself searching for him in faces, and places I wasn’t sure he would dare venture to. I had even convinced myself he’d be at my dad’s upon my arrival, positive himself and dad knew each other. I wasn’t obsessed, I promise. Just a little... Crush.  
It had taken dad a total of ten minutes of the visit before he got in a dig about mum. A new record,  
“Be nice,” I warned, we sat down for dinner. A vegetarian’s version of spaghetti bolognese, from my dad did I inherit the caring nature. About animals and insects, the planet. Things that needed caring about. People often thought my dad and myself were jarring, we often voiced how important the use of paper straws were and how recycling was vital,  
“Hey, I’m just saying. You look thinner, that’s all,” He pointed his fork at me before digging in. I rolled my eyes, following his lead. Swirling spaghetti around my cutlery, savouring the taste as soon as it entered my mouth. Dad was really getting the swing of cooking, although a bog standard meal; the extra seasoning and careful placement of the different ingredients put together beautifully. A wet nose nudged at my fingertips that lazed on my knee.   
Maud. Dad’s faithful Samoyed, like me; dad’s allergies allowed him only hypoallergenic dogs. He didn’t like little yappy things, a quote from his own mouth. So, he opted for the best thing. White and like a ball of fur with eyes, Maud was the prettiest dog I had ever seen. More spoiled than I could ever dream of. I gave her a little stroke, silently telling her I wasn’t sharing. Not tonight,  
“How’s therapy going?”  
Dad wasn’t like mum, respectful in his choice of wording. He didn’t use degrading words, classing therapy as somewhat a joke. He listened and was genuinely interested, mum did of course care. But I couldn’t blame her for being tired of the whole thing, classing it as a joke as a way to make it tolerable and as a coping mechanism,  
“It’s going,” I wiped away sauce from the corner of my mouth, “I’ve only been once. It seems okay, I go back tomorrow,”   
He nodded, mouth closed as he chewed. We said nothing following this and I couldn’t take the burning stare of Maud any longer. I sneaked her a little bit of spaghetti whilst dad’s eyes focused on his plate. Like my mum, dad was a prime example of ‘Ageing like fine wine’ Unlike my mother’s wild and blonde hair, I was passed down my dad’s dark looks. Aside from the blue in my eyes, this was something mother dearest had gifted me, me and dad were very similar. He was starting to grey around the tips of his hair, I always poked fun at him for it. He would jokingly argue that it made him looked distinguished. Unlike my mother, my dad was a feeder. Often piling more food on my plate than my stomach could handle,  
“Eat, Bea,”  
“I _am_ ,”  
“Well, eat more then.”  
“I’m trying, dad, you’ve gave me enough to feed a bloody army,”  
“That’s your mother’s fault, giving you stupid portions,”  
“Dad.” I warned, which he sighed at. Holding up his hands, admitting defeat,  
“Alright, alright. How is she?”  
I looked at him, awaiting for something snide to follow. He noticed and asked,  
“What?”  
“No, ‘How is she? Has she brewed up any more potions lately?’ No, ‘How is she? Has she grew any new warts?’”  
His shoulders dropped as he shot me look. My phone bleeped out, I frowned at my lock screen as I checked it.  
  
‘ **Are you free to call? X** ’  
My fingers were quick in response, almost scared in case he suddenly changed his mind the longer I kept him waiting,  
‘ **Give me two minutes x** ’  
I asked my dad was I okay to take a quick call. He wasn’t bothered about table manners and let me excuse myself. I left, heading for the downstairs bathroom. Locking it shut behind me, right on cue my phone rang out. I gave it a moment before answering when I deemed coolly acceptable,  
“Issac? You alright?”  
“ _Mmhm. What you doin’?_ ”  
My hand landed on my chest as I exhaled,  
“I thought something was wrong then, you know you really should word your messages better.”  
I heard his laughter breathe gently through my phone, my smile reciprocated. Automatic,  
“ _Sorry. I’ve never been good at texting._ ”  
“I can tell.” I shut the lid of the toilet, following down with it as I took a seat,  
“To answer your question, I’ve just had dinner with my dad. I’m staying for the night,”  
“ _I’m not interrupting am I?_ ”  
He sounded genuinely concerned, I could feel his frown through my phone. I told him no, he was fine. We had finished anyway. I began fiddling with products in my reach, a nervous habit,  
“So, what are you doing?”  
“ _Currently? Lying down._ ”  
“Lazy,”  
Another smile shared,  
“ _I know, I’m terrible._ ”  
I don’t know what it was about his voice that relaxed me. But my eyes felt heavy and my shoulders drooped, lost in the soft tones of his words. Something enticing about them that made me never want him to shut up. My ears picked up on the sound of guitar strings,  
“Oh please don’t tell me that was a guitar!”  
“ _Might’ve been, what’s wrong with a guitar?_ ”  
“Nothing, just as long as you’re not one of those guys who plays Wonderwall at parties.”  
 _“Excuse me, my Liam Gallagher impression is brilliant._ ”  
Again, my cheeks twitched. The constant indent of smiling hurting the muscles, not used to being worked,  
“Now that I’d pay to see,”  
I heard my dad call me from the kitchen, signalling he had given me enough time. To me, it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted to glue my phone to my ear,  
“I gotta go, dad needs me. I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
I questioned him, hopeful he would be joining and our new Situationship hadn’t scared him off from coming,  
“ _See you tomorrow, Beatrice Bad Ass._ ”  
“When are you going to stop calling me that?” I whined.  
“ _When it stops being funny._ ”  
“It never was.”  
“ _I think it is._ ”  
“Goodbye Issac,” I smiled, hanging up before he could call me it again. I felt the warm skin of my cheeks under my fingertips and I knew enough to not look in the mirror that I was blushing. I warned myself to calm down before gracing dad with my presence, but it was useless for he spotted the new found colour in my cheeks straight away,  
“You’re blushing,”  
“I’m not,” I whipped the tea towel off the side, lifting a dish off the rack. Avoiding his gaze as I began to dry,  
“Who was on the phone?”  
“Nobody,” I groaned, “Come on, dad, drop it.”  
He held up washing the dishes, the rag bunched up in his hand as he placed it on his hip. Acting as though he had any right to be nosing around my personal life. Aside from the weekly dinner, when we both weren’t working, and asking about therapy; dad wasn’t exactly Dad of The Year. Whilst we did the fun stuff, he was absent when it came to the serious stuff. The low tones of an old band he had put on filled our silence as we stared each other down, I spoke first, admitting defeatedly,   
“It’s a friend,”  
I continued to dry, and he continued to wash. He shook his head, sighing as he passed me a dish,  
“I feel like I don’t know you sometimes, Bea,”  
“Why? Because I have a friend?”  
“No because there’s something you’re not telling me,” He paused for a moment, his hands getting lost in dishwater, “You never used to keep secrets.”  
“I’m not five any more, dad, I’m allowed to be private.”  
I could feel my temper rising, burning my chest and captivating my lungs in it’s clutches. My dad, out of everybody, I hated snapping at. With mum, it came like a second nature for she fought back. With dad, my spite seemed to genuinely hurt him at times. He wasn’t adapt to how quick my moods swung, and I hated how they did,  
“I know,” He tossed me a sad smile and it stung me, “I sometimes forget, you know?”  
I nodded. Wanting to leave the conversation at that. In the midsts of dad forgetting I was older, I forgot sometimes he was getting on also. He appeared to be getting greyer and his face was becoming more worn, as though his lonely living was taking a toll on him. I knew he wasn’t entirely alone, but Maud wasn’t exactly talkative,  
“Dad,”  
“Hmm?”  
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”  
“Ah, you don’t talk to me so I’m not talking to you.”


	3. Chapter 3

I  
wasn’t sure what would happen between me and Issac once we were back in the group, whether he would give away any signs we had been speaking. He didn’t, he gave me one simple smile as I entered the room and turned back to his conversation with Dr. Kerry. I tried not to fawn over him, but he looked lovely. A little baker boy hat concealed his hair in the colour of blue, a red and worn baggy checked shirt that faded in the stitching. Sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Jeans and tatted boots, something that gave the impression he wasn’t up to date with current fashion yet somehow making it his own. Sweet vintage.  
I spotted the seat I had sat in last week open and I settled in, now realising why the odd few claimed their own. There was something comforting about having it unofficially belong to you that made the sessions less daunting. My bag dropped lightly to the floor and one of the little polystyrene cups came into my eyeline from my right. Mary,  
“I saw you liked coffee so I thought I’d make you one.”  
Her eyes were sweet and her smile was warm, genuine. There was something about the little gesture that tightened my throat, something so small yet so kind. I couldn’t find the words to thank her,  
“I...” I took it, sighing, “Thank you, I’ll make it next time.”  
She shushed me with a flick of her wrist, it was just a polite gesture. To me, it was beyond words of kindness. I felt like I was overreacting, dramatic. But it touched me, nobody had made me a coffee unless asked,  
“Time.”  
And the session came to life. People rushed to seats and I wasn’t surprised Issac chose to sat away from me, although I couldn’t help but feel put out,  
“Good morning, everybody, how are we all?”  
A reply that everybody was okay was given, even I joined in. Now accepting I was a part of this,  
“Brilliant, can we all say our names so we can check everybody’s here?”  
Her eyes glanced around the room. I thought the giving of names at the beginning of each session was a little strange, for you could physically see if there was a chair missing if they were usually full. Like today. But, I suppose it gave a sort of structure in the emotional chaos. Names were called one by one from Dr. K’s left. My heart tightening a little when Issac called out his own, it landed to me and the infamous twitch at the corner of his mouth appeared. Eyes shining,

“Bea,”  
I always found little exercises like this hard, repeating my name over and over in my head. Careful in case I got it wrong and blurted out somebody else’s name. I felt myself relax into my seat, the worse part was over,  
“Fabulous. So, welcome back everybody. Nice to see we’re all here again,”  
She smiled at us around the room, the people around me seemed a lot brighter than last time. Shoulders tall and smiles wide. Everybody seemed to have had a good week, this being confirmed as the session began and one of the patients spoke of how she had a brilliant week; even achieving her personal goal of handling a telephone call without stuttering or getting upset with herself. We clapped at this. Another spoke of how she had gotten through the week without crying. Again, another round of applause. I suddenly felt small in myself, as though getting through the week without crying was a simply normal thing to do. Another thing reminding me I wasn’t sick enough to be there,  
“Bea?”  
“Yeah?” I asked a little too loudly, giving away I wasn’t listening,  
“What good thing happened to you this week?”  
Dr. Kerry’s eyes were wide as they peered at me, eager to hear if I had, had a sudden breakthrough. I tried to avoid Issac’s smile and arched brow, almost teasing me. I found myself flustered,  
“I... I... I can’t think of anything, nothing really new.”  
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole, eyes darting down to the coffee in my hands. I could feel my cheeks were tickled pink. I felt the sickly feeling of embarrassment, the fabric that lined my back becoming damp with faint sweat. Between the asking and the heat in the room, I felt dizzy. Everybody moved on, but I couldn’t look up. Scared in case I was asked again,  
 _“You’re alright you know,”_  
A voice whispered beside me. Mary,  
 _“I was the same, I didn’t have anything new. Nothing changed, no magical phone calls I couldn’t usually make and I’m not usually a crier. Don’t worry,”_  
I looked up and gave her a small smile of thanks. I really liked her, there was something in the plumpness of her cheeks that made me feel safe. I knew she had seen many a scraped knee and kissed many a graze. Having her beside me gave me my courage back, the courage to engage and listen to other’s accomplishments. I wanted to talk about how I had cried over my cup of tea, how mum made me feel over the t-shirts. How I snapped at my dad, but I didn’t want to bring the mood down. Everybody seemed so happy, it would be unfair of me to spoil it,

“Time.”  
We all broke off. Like clockwork, people headed outside for their cigarettes. Others headed for the food table, and it was then a cry was let out from beside me. The once happy woman that gave me comfort, was suddenly in floods of tears,  
“Mary?” Frowned Dr. K as she approached us, Issac trailed behind, “What’s the matter?”  
“I-I’m sorry, I-forgot!” She was in pieces and it hurt me, I wanted to cuddle her but I didn’t know whether Mary was a touchy feeling person,   
“Forgot what, Mary?”  
“T-The orders for lunch, I forgot. I’m so sorry,”  
I remembered from the first meeting that lunch was ordered through the phone but was only made by a little cafe around the corner. I found my voice, for the first time properly the whole session,  
“I’ll go,”  
All three of them looked at me, surprised to hear me speak. Mary began blubbering again, shaking her head,  
“No, it’s my fault. I’ll go,”  
I found the nerve to place a hand on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze,  
“Honestly, it’s fine. It’s only round the corner,”  
Through thick tears did she smile. You’d honestly think she had been given the news she had minutes left in the world, not that she had forgotten to order lunch for everybody. It saddened me, because I knew through her warmth; she was just as broken as everybody else,  
“I’ll get the list.”  
Dr. Kerry seemed happy with this, for she knew I struggled with handling simple tasks sometimes. But, as long as I was given clear instruction; I could handle it. But somebody didn’t believe I could. Issac,  
“I’ll go with her, give her a hand,”  
I narrowed at my eyes at him, feeling offended,  
“I-it’s fine I can do it.”  
Dr. K handed him the list with a smile,   
“I’ll let them know you’re coming,”  
I didn’t really get a say in the matter, for I was on my feet and out into the corridor quicker than I had time to process, I couldn’t help myself. Feeling as though the annoyance would eat away at me if I didn’t voice it,  
“I can really do it myself you know,”  
He snorted at me, shaking his head,  
“It’s okay to accept help _you know_ , it’s a big order,”  
He lifted the paper at me sideways ever so slightly and the length of the list clarified he was right. I shut up, the irritation he was needed creasing the lines in my forehead. The heat that drowned us outside was overbearing, but Issac never gave away he was hot. His naturally cool aura seemed to deflect any heat. We separated momentarily as a bollard came between us before we joined again, as though tied to one another,  
“Sorry I’ve been a bit ignorant, I just don’t want people to know. You know? As fun as this is, I love my job too much,”  
I knew he was only a volunteer but the word ‘Job’ Supported just how much he took it seriously. I nodded,   
“It’s fine, I get it.”  
His lips parted as if he wanted to get something more from me, but they clamped shut again. Some things were better left unsaid. My vision travelled upwards, peaks of sunlight greeted me through the gaps of the blossom trees. The area the meetings were held in were in a nicer part of the village’s centre, you often would find individuals hunched over note books as they transferred their imagination from their mind to paper in little hidden coffee shops and food joints. There was a mixture of modern and traditional architecture lining the road, tall trees that exploded with colour on their branches along the path,   
“Through here.”  
Issac’s voice pulled me away from my surroundings, the vibrant colours temporarily making me forget what we were doing. I followed him down a small brick path in between two buildings, hand brushing the left wall that displayed splashes of colour that were loud against the shadowed building. Still fresh for the hidden sunlight was unable to frail the paint,  
“This is cute,”  
I voiced, pointing at the soft pink door. Little flickers of gold writing stained into the glass, the brass handle in need of a polish. The bell above us rattled as Issac pushed the door open, signalling our arrival.  
We stepped inside and I could only feel strangely at home, the wooden chairs and tables welcoming me to take a seat. Tea pots and little sugar packets upon them. Ferns and other bits of greenery hanging above, some overspilling in colourful pots on shelves.  
A little old woman scuttled out from the kitchens, her frown softened upon seeing Issac,  
“Oh, Issac, darling! How are you?”  
“Hey, Peggy, you alright?”  
The standard British greeting, asking how the other were but never getting an answer. Peggy was adorable, it was almost threatening, she was tiny, and rounded. A grey and curled mop that flew off in different directions. Little glasses attached to string that lay gently over her neck and down her chest. The cutest little, dotty apron occupied her hips, her eyes the most beautiful golden colour like shards of church glass,  
“Have you got the list?”  
I followed behind as Issac led the way, heading to the counter. There was something about Peggy that found me suddenly becoming shy, almost like she was Issac’s grandmother I had to impress. List handed over did Peggy reach for her glasses, pressing them against her eyes briefly. Her lips parting as she muttered quietly, mumbling off each order,  
“Right, I think I’ve got it all,” Without needing to look, her hand moved behind her. Dropping her glasses as she reached for a large, paper bag that was full with containers and tubs,  
“That’s the bigger one,” Issac nodded at this, hands sliding the bag towards himself. Cradling it up in his arms. A daintier bag was pulled into view and handed to me with a smile,  
“Nice to see Issac finally letting someone help him. I usually get told to piss off,”  
Her choice of swear word relaxed me. A laugh was shared between the two, I couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, that’s cause you need to take it easy, Peg,”  
His dimple was prominent, cheekiness around his lips,  
“Excuse me, I may be old but I’m not useless,”  
He shook his head, unable to keep the smile at bay. I knew if he didn’t have a hat on, his curls would be moving wildly. He was best when he was like this, eyes sparkling and smile bright. He was so devastatingly handsome that I couldn’t believe he was real sometimes, let alone stood beside me. Helping me,  
“Well, we better get back. Cheers, Peg, I’ll see you Thursday,”  
She waved us off, and we tried our best to reciprocate without dropping everything. Seeing as I had the smaller bag, I led the way. The little bell ringing a goodbye.   
Again, we were in silence as we walked. But I think this was due to Issac concentrating on not dropping everything, his tongue poked out and his brow furrowed as he moved carefully,  
“How do you _do_ this on your own?” I giggled,  
“Not easily,” He groaned, between the heat and the weight of the bag; I noticed the trickle of sweat that escaped from underneath the rim of his cap. I huffed and stopped in front of him,  
“Right I can’t watch this any longer,” He eyed me suspiciously before snatching away the bag as my hand reached inside of it, “Come on, Issac. Just let me take a few things out,”  
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  
Stubbornness was a trait it appeared we both shared. I didn’t want to be in the heat any longer, I could feel my temper rising and I knew the more he struggled the longer it would take to get back,  
“Issac, I’m boiling and you’re taking about ten years. Just let me take a couple of things.”  
I could see his pride was killing him. He would rather die a stubborn death than admit defeat. Or, he just hadn’t met somebody as stubborn as himself. Somebody who wouldn’t challenge him. My eyebrows hitched upwards, telling him I wouldn’t be moving until he gave in. Which he did, grumpily,   
“You’re a pain in the arse,”  
He balanced the bag in the large span of one hand, the other reached in and passed over two of the larger containers to me. I could already see the relief sink into his shoulders, the bag considerably lighter. Not that he’d admit it. Although my arm was feeling horribly heavier, I was smug. Practically skipping as we began our journey again,  
“Are you always that stubborn?” He asked, his posture less strained,  
“Are you?”   
“Touché.”  
We were almost at the building again and I knew if I didn’t ask now, I wouldn’t get my answer as I quick as I would like,  
“How do you know Peggy?”  
I knew he didn’t like to give away too much of himself. His mystery and allure was his thing, so imagine my surprise when he spoke,  
“I work at the tea shop, well I help out. Peggy’s a friend of my mum’s and her husband died last year so she struggles on her own. So, apart from Tuesday’s I help out,”  
Issac’s mum was something I imagined to be the total opposite to Peggy. Slender and tall, eyes large and green like her son’s. Same smile and attractive features, I imagine her friends to be nothing shy of fabulous and in with the latest fashion. So, to hear otherwise threw my imagination sideways. Not that Peggy wasn’t lovely. She was a gorgeous, little woman. There was just something about her that screamed knitting needles and crosswords, not fur coat and high heels,  
“And Wednesdays,” Off his frown, did I continue, “You said you’ll see her Thursday.”  
My nosing seemed to amuse him, eyes crinkling as he smiled,  
“Nothing gets past you does it, Flowers.”  
“Nope.”  
He didn’t elaborate where he ventured on Wednesdays, I knew he had let me know too much already and our journey being over cut our time alone short. 

****  
In the midst of work, therapy and Issac; I’d forgotten about my life outside of it all. Well, not forgotten but abandoned it. Abandoned people that came with it. This was a goal I was working on, so, as a promise to myself I decided I would make more effort. Paige was one of my older friends, a baby and husband under her belt. She was one of those adults you knew had their life together the minute you came into contact with them, although my inner feminist wanted to reprimand her for her choices of living off her husband; I let it go. Paige was happy, then so was I,  
“God, she’s gotten so big,” I cooed, a gentle thumb stroking the little one’s closed fist. Her other in her mouth as she blissfully sat in her pram. Eyes wide as she wandered at the sights before her,  
“She’s heavy, honestly a proper little tank now.”  
The baby in the pram didn’t match her mother’s description, for she looked like a little doll. Arms and legs dainty in the little summer dress and frilly socks, her shoes tucked away as she kept flicking them off her feet. Her blonde ringlets fighting against themselves, refusing to be tame. Little bows getting lost in the strands of hair,  
“So, how’s work?”  
“Work, how’s unemployment?”  
“Boring, there’s only so many nappies I can change before I’m pulling my hair out.”  
Paige’s life is one I envied out of most. I knew it had to be boring in some parts, but the buying of nice purses and pretty shoes made up for it. The rock on her finger was something I always found myself staring at, the glint pulling me into a trance. Complimenting the slim and manicured fingers, Paige had always had nice hands. Always so perfectly delicate and prim,  
“I’d take dirty nappies if I meant I got a Birkin whenever I moaned.” I teased her, smiling over my coffee. Watching as her mouth dropped open as she defended herself,  
“Excuse me, I only have two!”  
I knew she tried to laugh it off but was serious. Her ignorance to the real word, again, had me envying her. I would love nothing more than to be able to defend my ludicrous handbag collection. Paige meant well, a little docile but she was harmless. We talked between sips, stopping briefly when little Florence kicked up a fuss. I knew Paige was pushing for the posh life, but the name Florence was absolutely ridiculous and I refused to call my unofficial Godchild by her full name. So, we came to an agreement that I could call her ‘Ren.’ Only I, she was Florence to anybody else,  
“Again, why are you having the Christening in bloody November?”   
I picked up the conversation from our last catch up, when she announced the ceremony would be taking place in the middle of winter. I thought she was absolutely mad, she thought the pictures would look magical; giving the impression it would snow. Which it very rarely did in November,  
“I told you, we couldn’t get a slot in the summer. The village isn’t exactly rammed with venues and churches. Plus, like I said, the pictures will be nicer,” Her finger toyed with her marriage band, it looser as the last of the baby weight had shed quicker than it had been put on.   
I tittered at this, rolling my eyes as I gave Ren a little once over before I began sipping at my drink again. I didn’t want to come across as cynical, dismissing her idea as stupid. For if Paige was happy, I was happy. My happiness hadn’t been as concealed as I would’ve like for Paige pointed it out,  
“You look a lot brighter since the last time I saw you.”  
Last time she saw me I was completely dishevelled. Parts of me completely hidden behind hollow eyes. Although there was a lot that needed fixing, my head space wasn’t as crowded. Wasn’t as dark. I was a lot more put together than the mess she last met up with,  
“Do you think?”  
“Yeah, you’re smiling,”  
“Excuse me, I’m a hoot!”  
She giggled at me, her laughter matching her sweetness. Her bright demeanour was infectious, the happiness rubbing off on me. I felt lighter the longer I sat with her. That’s how I knew she was a good person, my natural battery filling up instead of being drained,  
“How’s Greg?”  
“He’s fine, although I hardly see him. Always working, Florence cries when he comes near her. You wouldn’t think he’s her dad.”  
I smiled, for as long as I had knew Greg; he had always been a hard worker. It was a surprise he was even at his own wedding, his business caused him to almost missed the birth of Ren. Making it by the skin of his teeth,  
“Although I can’t complain, these shoes are from his last trip,”  
Her toes pointed upwards, catching my eye with the patent leather,  
“Don’t suppose you know if his brother is single do you?”  
Again with the giggles and in the giggles did I momentarily feel perfectly normal. No manic, no sadness. Just genuine happiness which reminded me to meet up with Paige more often.

****  
My fingers were frantic, ripping through my wardrobe. Bits of fabric whizzing past me in a blur. Another outing with Issac was the source behind my panic. It wasn’t anything that indicated it was a date, he just asked if I fancied a walk as we both had nothing planned and the weather was nice. But I knew his casual was still nothing shy of well put together, somehow owning his clothing even though I knew he had just threw it on.   
I settled on a floaty type of dress, patterned with light flowers and colours. Split in the thigh. Breezy enough to not let the heat suffocate me, but still pretty enough to show I had made an effort. My boots were never off my feet, the heels becoming more than scuffed. I had to scrape my hair into a bun, the sunshine too merciless to allow it to be worn down.   
I peaked out of my window and was greeted by a smile, signalling it was time to leave. Mum knew I was heading out, so she didn’t bother with a goodbye. Thankfully. I couldn’t deal with the questioning I knew she was dying to ask,  
“You look nice,”  
His compliments and words were light and meaningless, but it was honestly like every single vessel in my cheeks were bursting over them, eager to show him how much they appreciated what he was saying,  
“Thanks.”   
I couldn’t reciprocate the compliment, for his had completely threw my game off. Not that there wasn’t anything to compliment, there was a lot of things. But I just couldn’t find the words. He spoke for me,  
“How’s your day been?”  
Our arms brushed lightly as we walked together, although warm I could feel the goosebumps prickle at my skin as the hair on his arms tickled mine,  
“Good, bit boring. Yours?”  
“Same, Peggy had her nephew in so she said I could have the day off,”  
“How sweet.”  
I pulled my arm away, the tickling sensation annoying me. I folded my arms against my chest, regretting it for I could feel the creases between my arms getting sticky. His eyes cast downwards,  
“Are they ever off your feet?”  
My line of vision followed his and I couldn’t help but laugh as we both looked at each other,   
“Nope, I shower and sleep in them. They are a part of me,” My sarcasm confused him, a little too natural to help him suss out whether I was joking or serious. I’m guessing he was hoping for the first, for he snorted,  
“Remind me to never let you take them off, the smell must be horrendous,”  
“Oi! My feet don’t stink,”  
“Yeah yeah, whatever stinky shoes.”  
Our laughter and teasing was awfully easy considering the short amount time we had knew each other. Almost like our words fitted together, made to be spoken to one another. We turned a corner, actively avoiding to walk through the high street. Fear of being caught, thrill accompanying it. The two mixed emotions were fighting one another, trying to prove who was the strongest. Our feet began rising up and down the uneven streets and cobbles. I followed Issac as he guided me throughout the back streets whilst talking. We dipped down side streets, walked up hills before eventually we settled on a bench that was hidden in shade and out looked a endless horizon of yellow and lavender with shy peaks of green,  
“Wow,”  
“Nice isn’t it,”  
I could only nod, watching the plants drift in the breeze. The shading pleasant on my already burning skin. He said nothing, eyes following the movement. His body was completely relaxed, legs slightly spread outwards. Arms lay beside him. Utterly one with himself, I could only envy his confidence. How to be so comfortable with yourself must’ve been a talent, coming hand in hand with the pretty looks. If I looked any relation to him, sharing the same genetics; I presumed I’d give off something similar,  
“Why did you,” He drew his eyes away from the field, looking at me, “Look down when I said you look nice?”  
“Did I?”  
“Mhm, like you didn’t believe me.”  
I frowned at this, I thought I gave away the opposite. As if I was nothing but thankful for the compliment. He was right, I didn’t believe him. I believed I looked okay, the dress sufficing. Not particularly anything too special,  
“Oh, sorry. I... I didn’t realise I did.”  
He smiled, “Don’t apologise, but you did and I meant what I said. You look nice, pretty in fact.”  
I don’t think he realised the flattery his words gave, he recited them like he was simply pointing something out. I felt like he could tell me a troll under a bridge was beautiful, and I would entirely believe him. His charm had you believing anything he said, I was completely fascinated by him. Drowning in his presence, it was hard to imagine what life was like before him.   
There was another thing he possessed, the ability to read you. Knowing exactly how you felt about yourself and how you viewed yourself without saying anything. It’s like the minute I knocked into him, he had me figured out. As where I didn’t know a thing about him, and any bits of information he fed me were never followed up with further explanation. Like what he had told me was enough. But it wasn’t, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything. Not like, where he went to school or where he had his first kiss. But what colour made him happy, what memory made him sad. Anything that explained who he was,  
“What are you thinking about?”  
You.  
“Nothing,”  
And there it was, the look that told me he knew that was a lie and he already knew what I was thinking. His knee knocked into mine, signalling _speak the truth,_  
“Come on, what are you really thinking about?”  
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to think of something I could ask without being too intrusive. His mum, she was my best bet. I think,  
“What’s your mum like?”  
I was expecting him to shut his legs. Arms folding. Close himself off, but he didn’t. In fact, his face brightened as if he had been waiting for me to ask,  
“She’s lovely, really happy. She’d like you, in fact I think she’d just like me to finally bring a girl home. She’s starting to worry I’m going to turn into a spinster,” He laughed at this, I simply smiled. I didn’t want to speak, scared in case I said the wrong thing and he shut off. I let him continue,  
“She’s protective though, I was,” He coughed, sitting up right slightly, “I was a miracle baby, you know? Mum and dad tried for years and years, when I finally came along was when they almost gave up trying. I think she blames herself, for the way her body works that I ended up... Like this,”  
I couldn’t quite understand what exactly was wrong with him for him to speak so badly of himself. From as far as I could see, there was nothing wrong with him. Aside from a stupidly gorgeous face, he seemed like he was perfectly functioning. But how we met gave away this wasn’t the case. I avoided asking, instead joking,  
“Come on, you’re telling me you’ve never once brought a girl home?”  
“Nope,” His lips popped at the letter P, proud at the fact he wasn’t somebody who had a terrible turnover when it came to girls in his bed, “Honestly, don’t let this smile fool you.”  
It had, completely. I was completely convinced there was more than enough notches on his bed post to put my measly two to shame. Not that there was anything wrong with him sleeping about, for he was young. A time where you were supposed to enjoy yourself. But there he went, surprising me again,  
“I guess you should never judge a book by it’s cover,”  
“Which makes me think you’re definitely a little minx secretly,”  
He teased me, eyes daring me to argue. Instead I opted to tease him just as much back,  
“Ah, a lady never tells.”  
I wasn’t sure whether it was my infatuation with him, but I could’ve swore I saw his lips twitch into something unpleasant. But it was quickly gone as he quipped,  
“Hey, careful. I might get jealous,”  
“Maybe that’s what I want.”  
“That’s the last thing you want,”  
“Why? You big and scary?”  
The last thing he was, was scary. But for all I knew, underneath our feet could be bodies of his victims; buried under the soil. But as long as his eyes continued staring into mine; he could take my head off with a spade for all I cared,  
“You’re golden, Issac, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”  
His knee knocked into mine, even through the tan could I see his cheeks burn at the compliment,  
“I could say the same to you.”

****  
I wasn’t sure where it had gone wrong, maybe I had asked too many things. Maybe I had said something out of line. But I hadn’t heard from Issac since the day on the bench. To go from him telling me his mum would like me, hinting that I would be his first he’d take home even though there was no hints of romantic involvement, to silence completely threw me. I couldn’t get a gage on him, at all, he was a conundrum. My fingers itched as they wanted to type message after message, my body aching as I fought against it. But I did allow myself to check it obsessively during my current lunch break, that I gave myself before I burst,  
“What are you checking for, your clinic results?”  
I didn’t look up as I gave Sam the finger, hearing her laugh in retaliation across from me. I finally looked up, giving up on hearing anything,  
“Sam, how long do you give yourself before you get the hint somebody’s not interested?”  
Sarcasm was my language, men and their weird ways were hers. She thought about this, deeply, before her face popped up at me,  
“Two days. Anything longer than that I block them,”  
I groaned into my hands. I knew the four days of silence was enough to give away he didn’t want to carry our friendship on. I knew I had gotten too intense for him to handle, asking too many things. Messaging away, forgetting some people didn’t like double texts. I had read him completely wrong,  
“I’m a tit. Like an actual human tit,”  
“What have you done now?”   
“Nothing,” I frowned, confused as I confirmed it out loud, “That’s the point, I don’t think I’ve done anything.”  
Sam was sceptical, I could see it in her face. I wanted to defend myself, but between the two of us; there wasn’t anything I could argue. Sam was my saviour when it came to truth and advice, it often being given but straight to the point. Sam was nothing short of beautiful, very pink and Barbara Cartland. A natural blonde that darkened at the root, brown eyes that shattered with flickers of gold. A face you found yourself falling in love with as soon as you laid your eyes on her.  
I didn’t have time to argue anything else, for Kate bustled in. Hair wild and her face pale, the air around her heavy,   
“Kate? You alright?”  
“Fine.” She huffed, tying her apron around her waist tightly before heading back out. Completely avoiding looking at either of us. Me and Sam shared a look and Sam confirmed, quietly,  
“It’ll be her brother again, I’ll go talk to her.”  
Sam left me behind, in search of Kate. Kate’s brother had struggles, far worse than mine. Although I had never met him, I knew bits and pieces. Like his name was Zack, and Sam had a bit of a history with him. Other than that, I wouldn’t knew him if I fell over him. I sometimes forgot Kate was in her 30’s, her younger brother a reminder she was a few years ahead of me and Sam. I glanced at my phone, seeing I was due off my break ten minutes ago and that the screen was also completely blank.

****  
We had all had a very rough day. Between Kate’s family issues and one particularly rude customer who had made Sam cry, we were all exhausted. So it called for drinks in the local boozer that went by the name of The Pilgrim. It was by far one of the scruffier pubs but just like our one and only night club in town Black Rabbit, the booze was cheap and the music was sweet. Again, our village didn’t have a huge range of places to drink in. I liked The Pilgrim, although old it told many a story in the cracks of it’s paint. It had character and it was a place that I knew Issac rarely frequented. I didn’t have the energy to run into him, especially since I was going with the girls,  
“It’s official, I’m quitting.”  
Sam eyes were still puffy, cheeks blotchy. She made the announcement after slamming her drink down on the table, me and Kate brushed it off. Sam was quitting every week, we knew it wasn’t serious. I couldn’t help but laugh over my glass, the sugar in my coke pulsing through me and making me giddy,  
“You say this every bloody week, but still turn up.”  
“No honestly, Bea, I can’t do it.”  
I let out an eye roll, letting her rant. Letting her get it off her chest, I couldn’t blame her. The shift had been unusually awful, for the older customers were usually pleasant but a newer face had burst into anger that her tea wasn’t as hot as she wanted and as a result Sam got the wrath of most of it. I was just glad it wasn’t me. The heat in The Pilgrim was unbearable, every table outside occupied for even though the evening was transcending into the night and forcing us indoors; the warmth wasn’t giving up. I couldn’t wait for it to turn, gentle breezes being replaced with bitter winds as Autumn began tiptoeing towards the trees, orange and gold spreading through veins like a virus. It was easily my favourite time of year, meaning that even though it was getting so much colder so quickly, I would happily embrace the change with ease.  
My eyes surveyed the place, it was now something I naturally did. Although I knew deep down there would be the slimmest chance Issac would be here, I still nosed around. Or, I thought I knew he wouldn’t be there,  
“Issac!”   
My heart slammed against my chest. Kate’s hand moved wildly, waving him over. I didn’t dare turn around, scared in case it was somebody else. But I recognised the aftershave and the voice almost instantly,   
“Alright?”  
Their bodies came together in an embrace. He didn’t look at me as they pulled apart, his attention fully on Kate as they talked. There was something different in his voice, strained almost. I could feel my chest tighten and my cheeks grow warm, the ignorance on his behalf completely stung me. Despite the fact Sam also got the same treatment, Kate being the only one he appeared to want to talk to. I told Sam I was going the bar, letting Kate and Issac talk to each other.   
I paved my way through the crowd, squeezing in between two taller men. My height barely reaching their shoulders. In my quick escape, I hadn’t asked whether Kate or Sam needed a drink. I briefly glanced, seeing their glasses were still half full and vastly turned back to the bar. Hopeful I hadn’t been spotted and looked as though I was looking at him,  
“What can I get you?”  
“Just a coke please.”  
I handed over my money, knowing the price already and saving the barmaid of a journey of going back and forth to the till. My fingers drummed against the bar top, desperate to find something to fiddle with. There was something in me that wanted to leave my drink and return to the table, bathe in Issac’s presence even though he was clearly ignoring me. I still couldn’t work out what I had done, he had completely moved past me and over to Kate. I may as well have been an empty chair, I was convinced he would’ve sat on me; just to prove a point. Change was given and I was handed my drink, and I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer. My shoulders moved up in fright, the drink in my glass spilling over onto my fingers,  
“I guess that answers my question,”  
I didn’t want to look at him, I couldn’t. But his voice was so hypnotic, pulling my gaze up into his,  
“Huh?”  
“If you needed a drink.”  
“Oh!” I moved my glass into my other hand, fingers flicking off the excess, “I, I’m fine thanks.”  
“Well, wait with me whilst I get Sam and Kate’s,”   
He moved around me and took my spot at the bar, forearms placed down. I did what I was told, standing beside him. Glass put down, fingers swirling the straw. The ice clinking against the sides. The barmaid appeared as stunned as the rest of us, for her mouth parted a little and her cheeks grew rosy. Don’t worry, babes, it happens to us all. Issac flashed her a smile,  
“Can I get aaa vodka tonic, a gin and lemonade, and a straight whisky. Cheers,”  
His word of thanks was spoken with an undertone of dismissal, silently telling her to get a move on,   
“Youlooknice,” He hiccuped, it was then my nose to picked up the strong smell of beer. The green in his eyes glassy, a dosed smile on his lips,  
“Oh so you’re talking to me now?”  
His brows lazily creased, confusion on his face,  
“Since when was I not?”  
“Since you haven’t bothered to text me back.”  
“I didn’t realise I was obliged to,”  
“You’re not,” I admitted, shaking my head, “I just was worried I’d done something, that’s all.”  
His bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth and I could see him soften, like he knew he should’ve at least sent a little something. But another thing me and Issac shared, the hate for being told we were in the wrong and how it made us feel. He sighed, looking ahead,  
“I just don’t want you getting attached, Bea, that’s all. You haven’t done anything, please don’t think you have,”  
Attachment was something that came naturally to me. With my disorder came fear of abandonment, an intense one at that. Hence, why I didn’t have a lot of friends. Opting for a very few who I knew would be around forever, or close to it. Sometimes, I often got bored with friendships. If they didn’t fit in with how the friendship was on my terms, I’d completely distance myself from them. With relationships, it was similar. I was never grey; always black and white. Intense emotions, constant day dreams of scenarios I’d conjured up in my head,  
“We’re just friends, Issac,” My words were forced, thick in my throat. His face twitched ever so slightly, as though I had called him something nasty,  
“I can’t be friends with you, Bea, that’s the problem.”  
“Why not?” His unsolicited confession hurt me and my question had came out harsh. He didn’t answer me and I could feel the stinging pinch every one of my nerves endings. He arrogantly shrugged, almost brushing me off, I mimicked his actions sarcastically,  
“The _hell_ does that mean?” I scowled.  
His fingers toyed with the soggy beer mat someone had left, he sighed and admitted,  
“Nothing.”  
I felt as though I deserved an explanation. We had gone from walking in fields together to sudden hostility. I felt anger wound up inside of me as he spoke,  
“I can’t risk losing my job, Bea-”  
“You’re a volunteer,”  
He frowned at me, shaking his head and pushed himself up straight off the bar,  
“Regardless, I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t of. I’m sorry.”  
He looked authentic, like he meant it. Through the glossy shining, I could see the sober apology.   
I shook my head and abandoned my post, I couldn’t take the humiliation any longer, this was ridiculous. I made hast for the table and began collect my things, ignoring the burning that wedge itself thick in my throat. My mouth growing dry,  
“Hey, where are you going?” Kate, her face puzzled,  
“I’m gonna head home, I’m knackered,”  
I could tell Sam and Kate wanted me to say, the night only just beginning but I knew I would sit with a face on all night. They protested, asking me to stay for just one more. Issac appeared, three glasses clutched together in his fingers and unable to look at me. Again. I told them no, I was too tired. They knew when to let me go and just told me to let them know when I had gotten home safe. I could barely send them a smile, head straight down as I headed for the exit.   
  
****  
My feelings of being utterly obsessed with Issac had quickly switched, now not even wanting to be in the same room as him. Hatred bubbling at the surface. I didn’t even have work or therapy to distract me and dad had rearranged for dinner to take place next week as something had come up he couldn’t get out of. Truthfully, I felt devastated. Like the entire world had completely collapsed, like I had been given the worst news possible and the fact I never got a say in the matter left a sour taste.   
I was well aware checking his socials was worsening my mood, but it was like I couldn’t stop. Scrolling through his limited photos on Instagram annoyed me and yet I couldn’t pull away from them. I clicked onto my home screen, eyes spotting his icon across the top; signalling he had put up a story and given I had no willpower. I clicked on it.  
A gentle song began playing, artistic movement of camera as it gave you a view of bright yellow. Sunflowers. A field of them, I recognised it to be the old farm down by Waters Lane. The field being famous, the owner grew them for charity after losing his wife to cancer a few years prior. He allowed people to pick them, in fact he encouraged it, as long as you left a little donation before doing so. I knew the song off by heart, but I couldn’t help myself as I googled the lyrics, trying to see if they were a subliminal message.

_‘All I want is nothing more_   
_To hear you knocking at my door_   
_'Cause if I could see your face once more_   
_I could die a happy man I'm sure’_

I knew I was being stupid, it was just a song. Although a little sad, it fitted with the video. Soft yet melancholic. I knew I was being an idiot, I knew I was stupid yet I couldn’t help myself as I began to reply,  
**“Nice song x.”**

Like playing hot potato with my phone, I threw it across the bed. Quickly burying myself under the covers, chest rattling with adrenaline. It was like I was asking for him to block me, he had already given a clear warning we weren’t going to be friends. What more could he say for me to understand?  
I knew he wouldn’t reply and with the heat underneath my sheets, I moved from hiding. Perfect timing as Sam came bouldering in, arms full. I hadn’t heard her come up the stairs or even arrive,  
“Sam?”  
“At your service, darling.”  
She huffed as she threw the endless packets of snacks and two bottles of wine on the bed. One alcoholic and one not - glasses accompanying it. My phone was swallowed by the different packaging,  
“Your mum let me in,”  
She threw herself down on the bed, already reaching for the sweets. Sam knew my silence through messages was a cry for help. Anybody else, I would’ve told to leave. Not caring whether I was being rude, but with Sam; she got it. Feeding me different bits of snacks and filling me with fake alcohol that tasted like the real thing, she knew it was all I needed and the distraction was more than welcome,  
“So, what’s been going on?” She asked, tossing her head back as she shovelled the sweets in her mouth,  
“I don’t know,” I lied, “I just feel shit,”  
I thought she knew me better and would’ve pressed for something more, but it appeared she believed it. Nodding and continuing to chew. I reached for my version of wine, unscrewing the lid and pouring myself a glass. I made her one too of the real thing and we drank in silence, her nose was deep in sweets whilst I just watched television. The silence shared comfortable. I felt the vibration of my phone rattle the packets and with Sam’s arrival I had momentarily forgotten I had messaged Issac. Almost dropping my drink seeing he had messaged back,  
**“Didn’t take you for a Kodaline fan x”**  
The little kiss at the end gave me hope, relief spreading across me that he hadn’t ignored me. Or completely blocked me all together,  
**“How could I not be? X”**  
I had completely disregarded the time rule of making him wait, my mood instantly switching. I settled into my pillows, glass pressed against my lips attempting to hide my smile as we messaged back and forth. Both as eager in our replies,  
“Who’s that?”  
Sam pulled me from my phone and I could already tell I gave myself away,   
“Issac,”  
“Kate’s friend? The one from your group?”  
“Mhm.”  
She said nothing following this, legs dangling over the bed and fist full of sweets that kept being knocked back. I lit up a cigarette, letting my phone drop to my lap. My wine too pleasant to leave my fingers. I wondered whether I should allow myself to fall for the messages I were given, whether he was just being polite as we had group tomorrow and it would stop it from being obviously awkward or whether he genuinely wanted to talk to me. The mix of hot and cold left me baffled, but it didn’t stop me from replying - our messages continuing on into the night.

****  
We had talked until early hours, when my eyes stung and my fingers grew heavy. Sam had left by the time I woke up, we were at a stage where we felt we needn’t say goodbye and I don’t think I would’ve woken up if she had tried. I decided to pull out my bike from the back of our garage, making a promise to myself previously I would be more active during summer time. Mum having a car had found me becoming more lazy and once I made a promise; I very rarely broke it. Dr. Kerry said this was a great attribute to have, I found it annoying at times.  
The air drifted past my ankles as my feet moved the peddles. The denim of my shorts not being exactly biking material, but I powered through nonetheless. I felt my mind wander, the music playing in my ears distracting me from the burning in my calves. I lifted one hand up, slotting it into my pocket as I retrieved my phone to change the song over. I had found my co-ordination of being able to change music on my phone and pedal without paying attention rather a talent, but sometimes careless. For just as I looked up did I see the wide and panic stricken eyes of Issac and other group members. My fingers couldn’t find the brakes quick enough and we came tumbling into one another, creating a ridiculous amount of noise.  
He insisted he were fine and told me to stop apologising. We were now in the “Kitchen” Of the hub. His hands fiddling through the drawers in search of a plaster for my knee, that now oozed and was grazed. Thankfully my bike had survived without a scratch, I seemed to have taken the worst of it,  
“Issac, I’m so sorry I’m an idiot,”  
“It’s fine,” He smiled, head buried as his fingers rummaged, “Anybody would be lucky to have a pretty girl fall into them.”  
“Some would disagree” I attempted to joke, trying to play it cool but my voice squeaked and gave away that I was flustered. He shut the drawer with his hip as he looked at me, eyes bright and lips curved as he walked in front of me. He placed the plaster on the counter and picked up a wipe, beginning to clean away the already crusted blood. His touch was gentle, careful,  
“Bea, can we talk?” He didn’t look at me, continuing to wipe at my knee,  
“About what?”  
“The other night.”  
The silence was deafening, I wanted to jump down and run. Tell him I didn’t need the plaster even though the air at the graze was stinging. I watched him, eyes following his movements. I guess he didn’t need for me to confirm that we could, for he began to talk anyway,  
“Listen, I meant what I said about me crossing a line. I know I am, I know it’s wrong. But then I got talking to you last night and I realised I can’t not be at least friends with you, you just... You get me you know? I can’t avoid you, not that I want to but we share the same friends. We have group, it would be stupid of me to try and ignore you. Childish as well. When I saw you in the pub, I thought I could just push you away. Tell you we couldn’t be friends, I thought it would be easier but again, when we messaged last night. It was like you weren’t giving up and I just knew you were different.”  
“Issac I-”  
“No, let me speak. Bea, I... I like you, I think you’re sweet. I’d like try with you, take you out. You know, just try and let myself like you. Let somebody in,”  
It was now I noticed how close he was to my face, and the room had gone past sweltering. Nerves clipped at his words and I knew he was struggling to talk about it, but I couldn’t find myself making even so much as a noise. The confession completely shut my mouth. I couldn’t find my voice. I felt my cheeks flushed and hot, and my stomach was heavy. My heart pounded in my throat, threatening to break out. His eyes searched my face. My body numbed as he stared and I became painfully conscious of my grazed knee and mascara stained cheeks as I had cried at the pain of when I had fallen. His fingers anxiously bunched the bloodied wipe, waiting for me to answer,  
“That is only if you want to, I mean, I just had to tell you. Explain why I was acting so funny, I know what I’m asking of you is completely out of bounds but I know if I don’t try, I might burst,”  
“You’ll get in trouble.” I spoke, my voice no more than a whisper,  
“I honestly don’t care at this point,” He shrugged, “I want to start putting my feelings first, that is if you’ll let me,” He almost seemed, proud of himself. For the first time being in his company, his voice had faltered and he looked nervous. His cheeks had gone a little rosy and he struggled to keep my gaze, but he still managed to possess a cool charm that outshone everything else. I could only pathetically nod and his smile spilled out towards his eyes, almost shattering his cheeks,  
“Really?”  
“Mhm,” My mouth was still unable to open, suddenly timid.  
“I never thought I’d see the day, Beatrice Bad Ass speechless,” The covering of the plaster was ripped open and threw to the side as a mischievous smile was tossed to me and it was then I found my voice,  
“Not for long,”  
His thumb smoothed out the plaster and he looked up at me as he asked,  
“Better?”  
“Better.”


	4. Chapter 4

M  
y friendship with Issac had gotten better. Although we had yet to pursue it further, just having him around on the warmer days were nice. He made the world seem brighter. I hadn’t made progress in the group, I still had yet to speak. For at the moment, I was blissfully unaware of what was going on in my mind; for I could only think of him.  
“Come on, Bea, get those legs movin’, girl!”  
I take that back. I hate him.   
After checking over for any scratches, he suggested a bike ride a few days later. Once my graze was more healed. Although my knee was still a little stiff and my movements were more careful, I joined him and this is where we were. Riding down the back lanes of the more country parts to the village. Cows and sheep going past in a blur, endless green and fences for miles. If I wasn’t so out of breath, I would be in awe at just how pretty it all was,  
“Some of us are small y’know!” I huffed, his long legs seemed to peddle effortlessly. My little limbs unable to keep up with him. He slowed his pace and was now beside me, one arm on his hip as he appeared smug at my struggles,  
“I thought you liked going fast?”  
“Oh shut up.”  
He laughed at me but continued to peddle beside me. It was then we both noticed the sudden deep dip in the road and we pulled on the breaks, legs on the floor as we brought our bikes to a halt. The drop in the road shaded in woodland,   
“Looks steep,”  
“Mmmhm,”  
“We should take it easy,”  
“Oh most definitely.”  
We both mounted our bike seats, the same intentions crossing our minds.   
A race,  
“Alright on three?” Issac said, holding up three fingers to support his words as he kept the bike balanced between his knees,  
“Okay,”  
“1,” Our hands clutched the gears and brakes, ready to go, “2,”  
But before he could call out 3, I had already taken off. Cackling at him over my shoulder as he called me a cheat. I knew it would be a matter of seconds before he caught up with me, the chase awaking the butterflies in my stomach. My hair smashed against my cheeks in the wind, whizzing past me as I picked up speed. The green of the trees nothing but a blur, my body instantly getting colder. In that moment, I could only feel peace. Focusing on feeling nothing but the peddles underneath my feet and the shade on my skin, for a second I knew this was what natural happiness felt like,  
“No fair!”  
He was beside me quicker than I had realised, his breathing noticeably heavier. Our paces slowed as the road levelled out,  
“Can tell you’re not from a big family, if you were you’d totally know you never go on three,”  
“No, we’re just not cheats,”  
I smiled at this and continued to ride. Letting Issac take lead for I was unsure where we were going. I was just enjoying the journey, he called out to do the right and I followed. The ground becoming bumpy as the mud and stone mixed together. Suddenly, I was greeted to a luminous yellow underneath the sky. I knew where we were instantly. I had never been before, only ever passed once in the car. Not enough time to appreciate the beautiful petals and the long stems. We came to a halt and I couldn’t pull my eyes away, entranced. If the life of reincarnation included plants, I would hoped to be a sunflower. For they found sunlight no matter where they were placed,   
“Wow.”  
I could feel his eyes burning into me, awaiting for the rest of my approval. But I couldn’t speak, the flowers completely entrapped me into a state of silent awe. The bright yellow complimenting it’s intelligent brown centre,  
“Did you know, Sunflowers are one of seventy species in the herbaceous family? Related to artichokes you know,”  
Issac was as proud as the flowers in his random knowledge. I didn’t know this, which I told him. He looked happy that he had taught me something new and took off again down the dirt track, I followed behind. The rickety fencing beside me didn’t look stable if I were to lose my footing and fall into it. We pulled up outside a cottage, smoke billowing out of the chimney. Who in their right mind would have a fire on during this time of year? Issac placed his bike down and headed for the door, disappearing behind it momentarily and left me to stare at the flowers some more. He was quick, returning with a wicker basket and a smile,  
“Come on,”  
I was fast in dismounting my bike, gentler with placing it down than he. I caught up with him, being asked,  
“So, which ones do you like?”  
I frowned, unsure of what I had heard, “What?”  
“The flowers,” He nodded at them, “Which ones do you want?”  
I knew what he meant, I just couldn’t believe he was asking. Or, why he was asking for that matter. Well I knew why, but I was just surprised. I thought we had only come to look, not to take any. The fact he had went and paid for me to go wild, touched me. For I knew you couldn’t exactly just take them. I scanned through the field, the decision suddenly serious. It had to be the perfect few, I couldn’t pick just any. If I were going to take them home, they had to be special. Not that they wouldn’t be, but they had to be right,  
“Come on, Bea, it’s picking flowers not a bloody engagement ring,” He giggled. He didn't laugh like a man, he giggled like a boy and I loved it. It was like listening to his inner child breaking out. Yet everything else about him was all man. I knew from instinct he had filled out with muscle long before his peers and his voice broke before he was officially a teen.  
I shushed him, leaving him behind as my fingers brushed against the stems I walked past and it was then I felt it. Saw it. It was smaller than the rest, it’s stemming a little skew-if and browning around the leaves,  
“This one,” I turned to him, “I like this one,”  
He wandered up to me and looked, an instant frown, “That one? Are you sure?”  
“Mmhm, it looks lonely,”  
“It looks like it’s dying.”  
I shot him a look of warning and he sighed, shaking his head as he put the basket on the ground. Smiling as he said, “You’re so weird.” He began pulling at the root, the muscles in his arms taut as he tugged and pulled. His tongue poked out as he concentrated, a habit I wasn’t sure he was aware he did. I heard the crack, signalling the flower was freed from it’s soil. He snapped the stem once more, halving it’s size and tossing my new flower into the basket. Discarding the other half to the side. He wiped the dirt onto his pants before picking up the basket as he asked me,  
“Which one next, Boss?”  
I shook my head, “No more, just that one.”  
“Are you sure? Bea, you can pick as many as you want,”  
“No, honestly. I like this one,”  
His eyebrows popped up in surprise before he gave in and we continued to walk. Enjoying the colours and eyeing them in case I liked another. The basket swung by his side, his body close to mine. The silence was no longer awkward like it used to be. But I wasn’t a thinker, always a talker and I couldn’t help but ask,  
“So, how many other lucky ladies have you taken here?”  
“Why do you always think I’m some bloody man slut?”  
“I don’t, I was just asking,”  
“Well to answer, none. Not unless you count my mum, and Kate. We used to come up here as kids, back when it was the Lavender field”  
“How long have you knew Kate?”  
“All my life, we’re cousins,”  
This, I frowned at, “But you don’t look-”  
“-Anything alike? I know, we’ve been told.”  
They didn’t. They were both beautiful, that was a given, but they didn’t appear as though they shared the same genetics. Their hair completely different colours for a start, the only thing similar were their height and dimple the carved into their cheek,  
“But I thought you were friends,”  
“That’s what we tell people, because nobody ever believes we’re related.”  
Another look into his personal life and it was like the effect of the sunflowers gave him the power to speak freely. As though he felt a sense of protection between the seeds, like they were telling him it’s okay to let me listen. We came across a clearing, an opening that wasn’t covered in yellow, the ground below dotted with just daisies and grass,  
“Do you want to sit down?”  
I nodded, wanting to let my legs relax for a moment. We took a seat and said nothing, Issac began twiddling with the daisies between his fingers; plucking them from the ground and toying with them. His face was relaxed in the way deeply happy and content people's are, simply lacking the tension anxiety brings. His eyes had a softness to them, there was something so welcoming in the clear jade. I felt just a little more lost, a little more at home, each time we were together.   
His eyes were every hue of the forest, rimmed coolly with moss. Their lightness reminded me of summertime, when the sun-rays warmed each extended leaf. Next to the shade of his hair, the deepest brown, he was alive in the same way birds were, casually wild. I could only feel lucky to be sitting here with him. We talked about a television show we had both been watching, a hot topic between most people I knew as of late. I gave my opinion of the lead character and this seemed to tickle him, I swat at his stomach lightly. Telling him I was completely serious. His laughter quietened and he locked me in a trance with such intensity; looking away was unthinkable,  
“Like I said, you’re so weird,” He was the one who looked away, amusement still twinkling behind his smiling. Daring him to break out into a fit of laughter again,  
“Thank you,” He quizzed me with his eyebrows and I continued, “For the sunflower, you didn’t have to,”  
He smiled and said nothing, he didn’t need to. Sometimes his eyes alone spoke for him, burning into you and making you feel so openly vulnerable,  
“Why do you like me?” I couldn’t help myself as I asked. The words tumbling out of my mouth before I could catch them. He didn’t seem thrown by my question, as though he was ready with his answer,  
“Why not?”  
“Have you seen your face?”  
“I’m more than just a face, Bea,”  
I huffed, “I know but I mean,” I looked out into the field. Searching for what I meant, as if between the soil I’d find my answer, “I don’t know what I mean actually. Forget I said anything,” I began fiddling with the frayed denim hem of my jacket, picking at bits of ratted material. Timid and embarrassed for myself,  
“Bea, look at me,”  
I didn’t want to, but again the soft commanding of his voice had me doing so,  
“I like you because you’re funny, I like the colour your cheeks go when you get shy. I like the lightness in your eyes when you find something interesting, I like you because you’re ridiculously pretty without meaning to try. I like you because I just do, but I don’t like how you discredit yourself. How you don’t believe somebody could like you, how you put on this front you’re some big hard knock. You’re allowed to be soft, the world will allow it, Bea. Just let yourself,”  
It had stunned me, how well he knew me from such little time together. I was dumbfounded at how quickly he had worked me out. My saliva in my mouth had dried up, turning into glue and clamping my lips shut. My brain couldn’t supply me with a reply, and I could feel my cheeks grow warm. As if the information he liked the colour of them appeared to impress him,  
“You told me not to let anyone tell me I’m anything but golden, I just wish you’d do the same. You’re special, Beatrice Bad Ass. Truly, I just wish you understood how special,”  
I wanted to believe him. I really did. Aside from the fact I enjoyed the feel of a record underneath my fingertips, I couldn’t think of anything that was particularly special. I sounded like such a bloody cliche. He lay backwards on the grass. Unaware of how flustered I felt, or maybe he did know and left me to blush in private. I let myself cool down before I joined him, making sure to give him a little space as I lay down. I watched him quietly as he looked at the clouds above, from the little textured bumps underneath his skin, to the little curve of his nose. He began to hum, the soft melody held a talented edge to it. Rough but not in the style in which it was awful, more wild and rock star from the 70s. I would hate to go up against him in karaoke for he would come up champion,  
“ _Put your hand in mine you know that I want to be with you all the time. You know that I won't stop until I make you mine_ ” He mumbled, his foot flicking gently in time.   
“Is there anything you can’t do?”   
“Hmm?” He wasn’t sure what I meant by this, his eyebrows flicking up quizzically,   
“Your voice... It’s lovely,” He smiled at me, flattered but unsure of what to say. His brows dropped and his bottom lip was pulled in by his teeth as he thought, his face lightened as he pointed out,  
“I can’t draw. I’m terrible at it,”  
“Maybe you should learn,”  
“Maybe I will.”  
A soft smile was given by the both of us before our heads turned and we looked upwards, watching the clouds that drifted above. Both of us now gently humming the song together. 

****  
My mood had gotten worse, along with the weather. Heavy downpour bounced up from the pavement, completely drenching me. I had wandered into a particularly deep puddle and it was enough to spring tears to my eyes, frustrated. It was Tuesday, my bike had a flat tyre and my mum was in her boyfriend’s. Dad was in work, meaning I had to walk to the hub. It wasn’t far but given I was already ten minutes late, my feet were kicked up in a run.   
I had ripped through my wardrobe, unable to find anything with a hood and once it had gotten to a time where if I didn’t leave I wouldn’t be able to attend the session; I had to brave the rain. I had called to let them I know I was running late, leaving out that I had slept through my alarm, I was still in a flurry of panic. Being late was something I struggled to cope with, for time was everything to me. The blue sign came into view and I could feel myself relax, I was almost there. The rain bashed and splattered across the large writing. Another puddle soaked my legs through but I continued to run, sprinting across the car park and through the doors. Pushing them open. I ignored the burning stare of the receptionist, not bothering to say hello. I could feel the carpet beneath me getting wetter as I ran through the building.   
I hadn’t missed any of the fun, but as I burst through the door, everyone was sat down. All eyes were on me as I slowly shut the door behind myself and I could feel my cheeks begin to dry from embarrassment. I gave an apologetic smile and searched the room for an empty seat, it being sat next to Issac for somebody else had taken my usual spot. I mumbled an apology and scuttled over to the seat as quickly as I could, throwing myself and my bag down. The session continued whilst I sorted myself out, I was completely drenched. I dread to think what I looked like,  
“ _Where’ve you been?_ ” A whisper came from beside me,  
 _“I woke up late,”_  
 _“Are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying.”_  
 _“It’s raining,”_  
 _“No, your cheeks are red,”_  
 _“Well I’m fine alright? Just leave it.”_  
 _“Bea I-”_  
“I said I’m fine!”  
The room grew silent. All eyes on me and Issac, both of us slowly turned; cringing at how loud I had been. I hadn’t meant to have shout, really. I knew he was just worried, but the irritation of being under his scrutiny niggled at me. I just wanted to be left alone and listen to somebody’s else’s problems so I didn’t have to think about my own. Dr. Kerry’s face was full of interest as she asked,  
“Bea? Is there something you’d like to talk about?”  
“No, I-I’m fine just a little stressed. That’s all,”  
My words came out mumbled, embarrassed for myself. Dr. K didn’t appear annoyed, more genuinely concerned that something was the matter. She wasn’t speaking like a patronising teacher would when you and your mates would kick up a fuss in class, but as though she really wanted to know what was wrong; and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it,  
“Beatrice, if there’s something the matter then I’d like for you to share. It’s what we’re here for,”  
All eyes now just on me, encouraging me to speak. I felt suddenly small, closed in as though I were being backed into a corner. I knew I would eventually have to speak within the group, share how I was feeling but I had hoped it would be when I was happy. When I had achieved something, not when I was miserable. Sadness heavy around my shoulders and curving my spine,  
“I just haven’t, haven’t been sleeping properly so I think I’m just a bit narky,”  
This, was true. The sleepless nights disrupting my daily life, deep slumber I’d finally fall in to having me almost miss work and deafen my ears to my alarms on my phone. The tiredness exhausting me, pulling away any happy feeling and replacing it with sleepy depression and irritation,  
“Really?” Dr. Kerry leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin being held up by fingers, “And is this common? Not being able to sleep?”  
“Not really, I just can’t seem to sleep lately. Like, I’m just tossing and turning all the time,”  
“Well, have you done anything new recently?”  
I pushed my bottom lip out as I shrugged and shook my head, little droplets of water trickling down my forehead, “No. I think it just happens when something’s bothering me, you know like in princess and the pea? Where she can’t sleep because the pea’s bothering her even though she doesn’t know it’s there? It’s kind of like that, I know something’s bothering me. I just can’t think of what it could be.”  
Dr. Kerry nodded and began scribbling something down on the sheet of paper that was attached to a clipboard, the noise annoyed me,  
“What are you writing?”  
I hadn’t meant to have asked and I could tell by everybody’s faces I had questioned her with something they wouldn’t dare. Usually just leaving her to make her notes,  
“Nothing, just little notes,”  
“Yes but what?”  
Between my lack of sleep and the scratching sound of the pen, I was beyond fed up. Paranoid at what she could possibly be writing, for I was under the impression that whatever got spoken; stayed between the circle. I wouldn’t have bothered to open my mouth if I knew it was going to be written about, a reminder for her to bring it up in future sessions. I huffed, folding my arms and sulking back into my seat,  
“This is ridiculous,” I mumbled and I felt fingers squeeze gently at my knee, I snatched it away. I knew I was behaving like a child, a spoilt one at that, but I couldn’t calm myself down. My temper burning at my ears. I was honestly the worst person to be around when I was in a mood, don’t touch me, don’t talk to me. Don’t breathe near me. I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to be at home. Cosily tucked away with the television on, not drenched and sat on the uncomfortable plastic. I felt like I was being difficult, in fact I knew I was being. I knew by the way they carried on that they were used to people having outbursts, completely unaffected by my tantrum. I felt stupid, as though my problems were childish compared to everybody else’s,  
“Time.”  
Everybody broke apart, like always; some headed straight outside whilst some headed for the table. I followed the latter, desperate for energy from a cup of coffee. Issac was on my tail but I paid him no notice, starting up making my drink. The little cup billowing steam and turning dark as the powder and water mixed together. My fingers began fiddling with the little pot of milk, unable to get it open. No matter how much I huffed. I felt his fingers take it from me and open it with ease,  
“Thanks,”  
I tipped it in, tossing the empty in the bin. Stirring with my drink with the little wooden stick. We both leaned against the table, eyes glancing around the room. Issac was more a fan of tea than coffee, said he didn’t like the bitterness. Today he was a lot softer with his choice of clothing, blue jeans, a cardigan with black as the main backdrop with red and yellow stripes that brightened it, a white tee with a graphic print that reminded me of Picasso style art. Comfortable,  
“Nice cardigan,”  
“Thanks,” He took a sip, “My nan made it,”  
“Cute.”  
He smiled over his cup and I wanted to pinch his cheeks. We watched the room as people pottered about and talked. He leaned over slightly as he told me quietly,  
“Don’t worry about what she was writing. She just does it to make a note, in case there’s a pattern or possible trigger. It’s so she can keep an eye out for anything she recognises something that she can use to help,”  
I knew he was trying to be as quiet as possible, avoid being told off for breaking one of the rules. We knew even being near each other and becoming comfortable and familiar with one another was already bending them; being a volunteer and not practising what he preached would lead to a written warning. I dread to think what would happen if they knew what else we were doing. I hated to think I would be the one who could ruin it all for him,  
“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t sleep?” He didn’t look at me as he asked, eyes still looking out as he sipped. Weary,  
“I didn’t wanna bother you.”  
“You could never bother me, don’t be silly.”  
His head snapped up as his name was called from across the room. He gave me a touch of comfort by subtly scratching the back of my head before leaving me and I stood there, watching as he was captured by one of the patients. He tossed me a glance before his face darkened, brow furrowing. I could tell by the worry lines in the patient’s face and the tightening of his posture, something was wrong. The two of them left the room and I wanted to follow but I knew I would’ve been told to go back. Whatever it was, I’m sure I would’ve found out later.  
“You alright, love?”  
Mary was now beside me, picking at biscuits and sipping tea. I nodded, lying through my teeth,  
“Yeah, I just get cranky when I’m tired,”  
“Oh me too, I’m the worst.”  
I knew Mary was just trying to help, I knew deep down she couldn’t be more further from being a nark even if she tried. Her aura completely bright, outshining anything dark. Keeping it hidden, even during her little outburst over the lunches; she still managed to create a happy vibe around her. I couldn’t imagine the woman snapping over something small just because she was tired. Even though a naturally human thing to do when exhausted, it seemed impossible that Mary could possess anything nasty about her. I wish I could wrap her up in cotton, shield her from all the bad things,  
“Issac seems to have taken a shine to you,”  
I knew Mary had been coming to the sessions for a while, so I knew she had seen Issac in the therapy environment a lot longer than most of us. I tried to sound not too keen,  
“Oh really?”  
“Mmhm, he’s usually quite shy. Hard to believe I know,”  
Her last sentence came after I gave a look of complete scepticism, as though she were pulling my leg. The Issac I knew was loud, confident but not full of himself. I knew he was sometimes quiet but not shy, far from it in fact. I always thought the quiet manner was due to the fact he was a thinker, always aware of what was going on around him. I didn’t once mistake it as shyness. The little quirk was sweet, softening my heart,  
“I didn’t know that,”  
“Oh God yeah, it took me months to get a hello out of him,”  
She smiled fondly, tittering to herself before she took a bite out of a biscuit,  
“You must be special,”  
There was that word again and I really couldn’t understand why I was being told I had some sort of superpower I was supposedly unaware of,  
“Come on, they’re about to call time.”  
Everybody returned from their cigarettes and talk, all collecting back in the room as it was getting close. But Issac, nor the patient didn’t return. Even when time was called and we were all back in the circle. 

****  
“Bea, you have such weird taste.”  
I knew well enough now that Issac’s silence meant he needed space, not away from me. Just from being sociable. I wanted to message him, check he was alright. But I didn’t want to suffocate him. Sam was helping me through my manic idea of sorting my wardrobe, colours and patterns in piles around us. Nothing but a hanger left in the wardrobe. I liked my style, like I had raided an eccentric old woman’s. Flares and fringe with vintage pattern,  
“Hey! Not the jumper, that’s my favourite!”  
The jumper that clutched between her fingers in disgust, it was far past savable. Bobbled bits of wool and frayed edges, but it was a favourite for sleeping in during winter. She dropped it to the floor, her lip curling as if it were a bomb. She sighed, shaking her head. I picked up a pair of sunglasses I had bought from a charity shop in France when I was 12. I put them on and asked,  
“Keep?”  
I knew by her face what her answer would be: **Throw them.** But I put them in the keep pile anyway, it noticeably larger than the throw away. My shoulders popped up as Sam let out a gasp, my face dropping upon seeing the boots in her hands. They were platform boots I had bought when I dressed up as a Spice Girl one Halloween, although ludicrously tacky; I couldn’t part with them,  
“No, Sam, not the boots! Anything but the boots,”  
I leaned over and snatched them, clutching them to my chest,  
“Do they even fit you any more?”  
“Yes! I’ll show you!” I began squeezing them on, it painfully obvious they were too tight. I lost my balance, falling off the bed. Clothes around the edge catching me, I sat up. Pointing up the booted foot,  
“See! Still fit!”  
We shared a giggle and I wriggled my foot free as I sat back on the bed, tossing the boots into the throw away pile glumly. We continued sorting through and with reluctance, I finally began filling the ‘to-go’ Pile. Some clothes I didn’t even realised I owned were amongst it, ready to be bin bagged and sent off to the charity shop, where we would be venturing off to once the rain settled outside,  
“So, how’s therapy going?” She flicked out a t-shirt before folding it, shoving it into the bag,  
“Alright, a bit boring but I think it’s helping.”  
She nodded, concentrating on what was being thrown and what was being kept; the two piles getting mixed. Mum walked in and eyed the mess,  
“Jesus Christ, and you say I buy too many clothes,”  
I rolled my eyes at her and swung my legs off the bed, beginning on hanging up clothes from the keep pile,  
“Everything alright, mum?”  
It was now I noticed the white envelope in her hand as she passed it over, my address and name written in messy scrawl. The stamp off centre. I frowned, tearing it open; surprised my mum hadn’t already done so. My eyes skimmed the words and I could only feel pure fear, trickling down my spine and curling around my stomach. Adrenaline flooding my system, it pumped and beat like it was going to escape. Convinced my heart would explode and my eyes were wide with fear. My body wanted to run, throw the letter as far away from me as I could, but I remained where I stood. Numb. I could feel every bit of colour drain from my face, this apparent as mum asked,  
“Bea? What’s the matter?”  
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t find the words. Every little bit of happiness I had felt previously being taken from me, it wasn’t the predictable anger or pain that was the worst. It was the terrifying fear of what was to come. I found my voice, looking up and staring helplessly at them both,  
“It’s Sean, it’s his plea letter.”

****  
I didn’t realise just how many tears the human body could produce, but judging by the past few hours it was a lot. My shoulders were slumped and my eyes cast down in a mournful gaze, mouth set in a semi-pout. Streaming tears cleansed my red cheeks. Few droplets remained, forgetting their way as the path was swept from beneath them, consequently blurring my vision with waves of sadness only the broken encountered. The salty release calmly flowed into my mouth so that I could taste my own sorrow.  
The anger drained through me rather than skating over my skin. It travelled through every cell to reach the ground. I filtered it yet strangely enough, I kept what was pure and it was the dirt that left. My mum didn’t dare look at me, the opened letter lay in front of us on the dining table. Glaring up at us, taunting. She swallowed a particularly large gulp of her wine, lips thinning as the sour taste burned her throat,  
“I’m sorry, Bea, I thought we had longer. I thought he would’ve... Tried, when you were stronger. When you were far away from here, I didn’t realise he could ask so soon,”  
“He shouldn’t even be asking at all.”  
My tone seeped malicious venom, it stung even me. Pure, white-hot anger filling my mouth and hissing through the room. Mum stayed quiet, knocking back her drink. My uncle Sean, if I could even call him that, had written to us. Asking if we could write back with a statement that I forgave him, that I forgave what he had done. His mental state was clearly unstable, the letter supported this. I knew mum had gave the prison our address in case of any medical emergency, disobeying the restraining order and the fact he wasn’t allowed any form of contact with us. I don’t know how she had managed it, I think after what he had done had ashamed my grandparents so gravely that they had handed my mum the role as his next of kin was a legal loophole somehow. Something I could never forgive her for accepting,  
“He’s my brother, Bea, he’s changed. He-he’s sorry!”  
She was desperate, torn between supporting her daughter and letting her brother be free to live his life. I couldn’t believe she was even having to choose, this wasn’t exactly Sophie’s Choice. To support her own child should have been the obvious right thing to do, sometimes I wondered where my mother’s loyalties lay,  
“He also abused your daughter for three and a half years, mum, the fact you’re even asking me to sign it... You’re just as deluded as him,” I rose, pushing my chair out. I snatched the letter from the table and I seethed, her eyes were unable to meet mine,  
“You think I will ever sign this, forgive him... Don’t hold your breath, that man. He can rot for all I care, he took away my childhood, mum,” I could feel the tears begin to fall again, the anger and sadness closing my throat over, “Whilst my friends were worried about their GCSEs, I was in and out of mental health clinics. I became ill, I had a breakdown. You’re just as sick as him, for even asking. I mean how _dare_ you, mum, how fucki-”  
“Language!”  
I felt my face twist, my shoulders pushing back and my strength flickering in my eyes as I told her,  
“How this, for language,” I began ripping up the letter between my fingers, devastated that she wasn’t understanding just how heartbroken I was at her lack of support. I sprinkled the pieces down in front of her and began to turn away when I heard,  
“You think it hasn’t been hard for me?”  
I was stunned, completely floored. I slowly turned on my heels to look at her and could feel the fire seed of anger as it began to harvest, spouting out from my mouth with flames of hatred,  
“Hard?”  
“Yes. _Hard_ , Beatrice. You seem to be forgetting who took you to the appointments, watch you carve into your skin like it was a piece of wood. I watched you, become absolutely nothing. I watched you, my heart breaking as I knew there was nothing I could do. I didn’t sleep, all I could do was watch you. Day and night, terrified of waking up and you having done something stupid,”  
“Oh so suicide is stupid now?!”  
She held up her hand, continuing, “Don’t, twist my words. I know how sick my brother is, I do. And that’s why I know he needs help, not to be stuck in a jail,”  
“What that man needs, mum, is to be chemically castrated,”  
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,”  
She walked away, shoving past me. Eyes to the floor, I followed her. Breathing down her neck,  
“Like what, mum?”   
My breathing became heavy as I awaited her reply, her back to me as she stuck her hands into dishwater. Avoiding me,  
“Like what?!”  
“Like a child!”   
Bubbles from the liquid dish soap coated her hands, splattering as she turned to me and threw them up. The hurt that infected every part of me stung feelings I never knew I had, awakening a heartbreak I had never felt before. After all this time, after everything I’d ever been through; my mother still saw me as a spoilt child. I knew she did but to hear her say it, after being given a letter from a man who had took away my innocence; I felt sickened with devastation,  
“A child? No, I was a child when he raped me, mum!”  
“ _Don’t_ say that word, Beatrice!”  
“Well that’s what it was,” I moved forward, it taking every bit of strength in myself to restrain my hands from doing something I’d regret, “That man raped me, in my uniform. In my little barbie night dress. That man, he took away something from me. Something I should’ve been saving for somebody I loved, not... Not a forty year old dirty paedophile and the fact you’re justifying it-”  
“I’m not!”  
“-Maybe you deserve to be with him, in the place you think he belongs because obviously there’s something mentally unhinged in you,”  
And that was when she done it, one clean slap across the face. I knew it was coming, I could feel the anger radiate off her. The feeling of my cheek stung and the force of the slap I could feel already marking my skin. But I didn’t cry, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. I moved my hair away from my face and scoffed, a twisted smile on my mouth,  
“Pathetic, that’s what you are.”  
She called after me, apology tumbling out of her mouth. Desperate for my forgiveness, I brushed her off as I headed for the hallway. I yanked my jacket off the hook. I made sure I had everything before I headed for the door, not bothering to wait for my mum to try one more time. 

****  
I could see the cosy lighting from inside the pub, shadows moving against the frosted glass; dull vibrations as people conversed and laughed. My knees jiggled as I tried to keep myself warm, the inked sky cooling down and around me. Little exhales of smoke came out in a cloud from my mouth, drifting and twirling into the air. I had left home, feet furious as I pounded them down into the pavement with each step. My mouth craving something stronger than a fizzy drink but as soon as the twinkling, soft lights came into view; I had lost my bottle.   
Kate was having a house warming in The Pilgrim, celebrating being handed over the keys to her new home that morning. Although in need of a lick of paint, it was pretty from what I had seen. Light and airy. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns and the walls were the greens of summer gardens meeting a bold white baseboard. The banister was a twirl of a branch, tamed by the carpenter's hand, it's grain flowing as water might, in waves of comforting woodland hues. Under the lamp-shine it was nature's art, something that soothed right to the soul. Me and Sam had been invited earlier, but after receiving the letter I told her to go on without me. I now regretted it, feeling a bit daft on having arriving so late and alone. The possibility of them having moved to another pub picked at my anxiety. But I held my shoulders back and threw away my cigarette, working up my nerve as I pulled back the door; the sound heightening as it’s barrier was taken away.  
The familiar smell of draught beer and rolled cigarettes welcomed me, people collected around the bar. Some joined at tables, smiles wide and happiness around them. I moved further inside, apologising as I shimmied past. Nobody said anything or even looked at me, just moved out of the way whilst continuing their conversation. It was a strange feeling, knowing people around me were completely unaware that my world had fell to pieces temporarily. I felt jealous, jealous that they were going about their evening as normal and I could only watch. I pushed through one more time and it was there I spotted them, with two additional people I didn’t recognise. All smiles, mouth’s moving as they chatted contently,  
“So,” I started, trying to joke, “Who’s getting me a drink then?”  
Everybody turned to me, my friends smiles grew wider upon seeing me. Kate was the first to rise to her feet and swallowing me into a hug,  
“Bea! You made it!”  
Cheap wine mixed with different spirits tickled my nose, Kate’s tolerance something remarkable for she barely seemed even tipsy. Steady on her feet. Her arm draped over mine as she turned us to start the introductions,  
“Boys, this is Bea. Another friend from work, Bea this is Guy and Bryan. My housemates,”  
I gave a timid wave to the good looking two. One blonde and one brunette, a reciprocated smile was given,  
“Come on, Bea,” Spoke Bryan (The blonde.) Whilst he tapped the empty seat beside him. Sam next to it,  
“Squeeze in ‘ere” His voice was friendly, Northern. Something about it made me crave Shepard’s pie and warm, buttered bread. Another timid smile and I scooted in past Guy, nestling in to the empty seat. Kate asked what did I want to drink,  
“Cider please, any flavour,”  
Sam and Kate’s faces gave the impression to Bryan and Guy that it was apparent I wasn’t a big drinker, but Kate shook it off. Heading for the bar, Bryan began capturing me in conversation. Aside from the astonishingly white teeth, was flawless tanned skin and eyes that shone brightly - making me want to get to know the person within. I could see from his features, there was something foreign in him. A little earring that a silver cross dangled from, very tea and trousers as opposed to Guy; who was all serious and vintage wine,  
“So, Bea, before I allow you into my gang. I have to ask, Stevie Nicks or Debbie Harry?”  
“One, that’s like asking to choose between water and food - impossible. And two, who says I want to be in your gang?” There was something so captivating about him that I couldn’t help but flirt with. He began to mock me, friendly not nastily,   
“One, very good answer because both are supreme in their own ways and two, you can’t sit at this table unless you’re in my gang.”  
We shared a soft smile, eyes locked and shoulders close. Within minutes of talking to him, I found myself entranced. Completely smitten. A cough was given and I felt my smile drop upon seeing the burning stare of Issac, my drink wedged tightly in his fingers,   
“Kate said erm, this was for you,”  
“Oh,” I was flustered, suddenly aware of my surroundings as I took my drink from his hand,  
“Thank you.”  
Either Bryan was unaware or purposely ignorant to the sudden tension that closed in on the table, but he continued to grab my attention. Teasing me and making me giggle. I did my best to flirt, tossing of the hair. Eyes all doe-y. I knew what I was doing, glancing slyly at Issac every so often but his little moment of disapproval was soon gone for he was the life of the table again. Arguing playfully with Guy over something or other, Kate gripped in a headlock in the way cousins love each other. Between the table’s joy and the sweet taste of my drink, it not being as bitter as I remember from when I was teen, I felt happy. The anger no longer tensing my shoulders, my laughter was genuine. My drink almost snorting from my nose as Bryan had told me some hilarious story about his holiday to Morocco when he was younger, Sam was now giggling too. Another bewitched by his allure,  
“Did she really say that?! Oh my God, I would’ve _died_!”  
As much as I found Bryan attractive, I knew there was a spark between himself and Sam. I slowly let the two become one as they talked. I leaned back, not wanting to be a block between them both. My eyes surveying around as I sipped at my straw, the dregs almost in sight,  
“Beatrice, darling,” My gaze landed on Kate, who was becoming giddy, “It’s your round,”  
A rule as old as time, I had never broke it so far and I wasn’t going to now. I knocked back the remainder of my drink and rose, clicking as I asked what did everybody want. I nodded, mentally noting each request. Giggling as Bryan pretended to block my path. The effect of the lone cider loosened my legs a little and I feared momentarily I would go head first. I straightened myself, heading for the bar. As the pub was now not far off closing, the bar top was almost completely empty aside from a few of the regulars who clung on to the last of their sobriety. Breakfast for them was whiskey with a rum chaser, faces riddled with rosacea. I gave in the order to the barmaid, asking would it be alright if I paid by card as I heard,  
“Never took you as a flirt,”  
“Huh?” I pulled away my gaze from the woman who was currently carrying out my order. Issac didn’t look annoyed, like I had hoped, more amused. As though my flirting entertained him. His head flicked towards the direction of our table, almost empty glass to his lips as he sipped. The drink in full effect, relaxing him around the face,  
“Oh that,” I scoffed, “That was being friendly,”  
I avoided looking at him as a I pulled out my card from my pocket. I tapped it slowly on the bar, playing with it, chin leaning on my hand as I held my head up. The long break from the alcohol completely ruined my tolerance, the tiny 4% of the fruity drink weighing my head down. My fingertips feeling slightly numb. He rested an elbow on the bar as he leaned sideways, eyes ever wandering. He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. More teasing, trying to provoke something out of me, “If that was being friendly I’d hate to see how you flirt,”  
I looked at him but he never pulled away from checking out the people around us, the Dutch courage swimming through me,  
“Maybe you never will,”  
He paused, looking at me. Lips parting in slight surprise. His face darkened as his forehead creased, puzzled and a little put out at my words. He eyed his glass, swirling the melting cubes gently before he pushed himself off the bar top and knocked his drink back. He placed the empty down and mimicked my stance, hunched and elbows on the brass railing that ran along the bar,  
“So, if that’s not how you flirt then what do you do?”  
I had a few certain things that I’d do on nights out if I bumped into any potential drunken fumbles in the smokers area that seemed to work in my favour, but I didn’t really want to talk about them. This new found confidence that came over me seemed to have him being the flustered one, I flicked my hair back. As though brushing him off, I could see him getting worked up. Not in an annoyed type of way, but more excited yet frustrated,   
“Why do you wanna know?” I attempted a sort’ve sexy smirk, as though I was all dark and mysterious. But I probably looked like I was having a stroke.   
“Because,”  
“Becauuuse?”  
He was completely bewildered, unsure of where this side to me had come from. He scoffed, shaking his head. I couldn’t read him, unsure of whether he was still playing along or he was genuinely put off by my tipsy side. Yes, I know. Tipsy off a cider. My tolerance was never particularly strong to begin with, especially given I was tiny in height. So, throw in a lengthy sober break; and I could feel my eyes already getting heavier. The barmaid returned with our drinks on a tray and I asked, before she retrieved the card machine,  
“Can I get two apple sours as well please?”  
She was pleasant, if she was annoyed at my last minute order she didn’t show it. She placed the two shot glasses down, filling them. The green liquid oozed from the bottle, I tapped my card on the little machine and when gone through did she leave us be. I picked up the two and held one in front of Issac. I nodded at it and he eyed it with a frightened stare. I huffed with impatience,  
“It’s not poison, Issac, it’s an apple sour,”   
I couldn’t help the little smile curl up at the corners of my mouth as he grimaced,   
“Might as well be,”   
I watched him brace himself before we clinked and knocked them back. The bitter sour harshly slipping down my throat, pooling at my chest and burning. We both gagged, I unable to suppress the cough that slipped from my mouth,  
“God, that is vile,”  
He shivered, cringing at the taste,  
“You’re evil, why did you do that to me.”  
I couldn’t help but laugh at him as he placed the shot glass down. The burning dripped from my chest and settled into my stomach. The sour in it’s name really lived it up, for I felt as though my taste buds were going to shrivel up and wither away in my mouth. Once past the fiery feeling, I felt warm. Tingly, the pleasurable joy spreading throughout me like a virus. We collected a fair share of the drinks and made our way back over, now noticing our new places beside each other. As Guy had captured Kate, and Bryan and Sam talked deeply,  
“I didn’t realise this was date night, guys,”  
We took our seats and the foursome broke apart as they reached for the drinks, blushing at my comment. They soon got over it, for they were back to how we found them. I sipped slowly, now reminding myself to calm down. For I had gotten a little overexcited with drinking again and knew between the shot and my second drink; I’d be way in over my head. It appeared Issac wasn’t going to drop it, and I could tell by his fourth that this was his flirty phase. For the colour of his pupils darkened around the edges, calling me,  
“So, Beatrice Bad Ass. How do you woo a guy? Come on, I know you definitely have moves,”  
He rubbed his hands together as they joined in a clap. I rolled my eyes,  
“I don’t, honestly! I’m actually really hopeless when it comes to flirting,”  
His lips pooled outwards, his cheeks touching distance from the outer edges of his eyes. The plumpness of them made me want to run my thumb along them, gently touching. In fact, I just wanted to feel any part of him. For the alcohol had dwindled his face, slackening anything hard in the lines. Vulnerable,  
“I call bull,”  
“No!” I shook my head in a wandering shake, “Honestly, if anything I need help. Teaching, I’m terrible at it,” I admitted, throwing up my hands as I laughed before my shoulder bumped against his, “Come on, I bet you’ve got something up your sleeve I know you’re just dying to show me,”  
Our giggles were childish, but an underlying flirtation slipped between us,   
“Alright, you really want to know?” His laughter quietened,  
“Oh now this I’ve got to see!” I sat up, turning my body towards him. He groaned into his hands, cheeks completely flushed,  
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,”  
His movements were sloppy, the whiskey taking the edge off. He lowered his hands, one being placed on the back of my chair as he innocently pointed out,  
“Don’t laugh alright?”  
“Issac,” I reassured him, telling him I wouldn’t. I could see he was debating it for a moment and it was then something changed, like he had flicked the switch. I suddenly stiffened as I felt his free hand find its way onto my knee, his gaze locking me in. I felt his thumb as it began to stroke. His fingers worked my hair as the tips were taken, twirling gently. His face began moving towards me and our bodies were getting closer, keeping me sober. I didn’t want to forget how he looked in that moment, the intense stare and velvety smile that dripped from his mouth. Feeling something tighten my stomach,  
“I look at them, as if it’s just us two. Nobody else matters, only I and them,” His words were thick, rich in temptation. I swallowed hard. His eyes not leaving mine for a second, his skin looking darker thanks to the low lighting that barely illuminated the room. His lips barely brushing past mine, his fingers found my jaw as they cupped it. Mouth pressed to my ear as he told me,  
“I whisper, telling them what would happen if we were alone,”  
“And what would that be?”  
He pulled back slightly, hand now hovering over my face. A smug look that read ‘What do you think’ Our faces close to one another, holding the fierce stare. Suddenly the light returned and he sat back in his chair, impressed with himself as he gave the jazz hands,  
“Ta-da!”  
It took me a moment for me to catch my breath, completely agitated that he could remain so composed. I was tempted to pick up a beer mat and start fanning my face,  
“Wow,”  
He was smug, he knew what he had done. He sent me a wink and picked up his glass, both of us turned to Kate as she teased,  
“Right when you two stop playing with each other, down your drinks as we’re going back to mine for a part-ayy.”

****  
It wasn’t exactly a ‘Part-ayy’ More drunken ramblings, occasional dancing and sipping cheap wine from the bottles we had bought just in time before the off-licence shut. The same songs playing from the CD on a continual loop, they were mellow. Volume low under our voices. Candles were lit around the place, Kate had forgotten to buy a lamp and the main light above was too bright for the atmosphere. Bryan and Sam took the couch, talking and laughing. Eyes soft. Kate and Guy were playfully arguing about something or other, sitting on cardboard boxes as Kate’s two-seater had yet to arrive. I sat on the window seat, the throw from the couch wrapped around my shoulders. Utterly happy and content. Issac came into view, handing me over a bottle of cider from the four pack Kate had stocked in the fridge. I wasn’t a big fan of wine, even at the height of my problem, so I left that to those.   
I scooted over, making space for him. But even with quite a bit, he still nestled close to me. I couldn’t have been more grateful for Kate telling us we were going back to hers. On the way to her new place, she had told me Sam had let her in on what was going on. I didn’t mind, it saved me the job of getting too emotional when telling her. I secretly let out a tear, wiping away as quickly as I could when her arm came around my shoulder; telling me I was welcome to the stay the night. Or, however long I wanted as she knew about mine and mum’s relationship. I wanted to take her up on the offer, of sofa surfing, but I knew once the alcohol was worn off and the sun had rose; I would have to be brave,  
“So, are you gonna tell me why the sudden drinking?”  
I knew it had been bothering him all night. It explaining why he looked so weary to hand me the drink back in the pub, the original look I had mistaken for jealousy,  
“Does it matter?” I took a huge swig of my drink, the bottle top making a popping noise as it left my mouth. My lips thinning,  
“Course it does, otherwise I wouldn’t ask. Come on, talk to me,”  
I didn’t want to. I just wanted to enjoy the tenderness around me, the quiet as everybody rode out the drunk feeling. Talking about nothing, laughing about something. I knew he meant well, I knew he cared. But, there was something that caused my temper and alcohol to not mix well,  
“Please,” I tried to say as calmly as I could, “I just... Please just leave it,”  
“You can’t keep your problems to yourself, Bea, a problem shared is-”  
“-A problem halved, yes I know. I read that in the hub too,” My words were bitter, aggravated. I didn’t need him to go all therapy on me. I had the group for that, what I needed for him to be right now was a friend. A friend who listened to my wishes of wanting to let it go, not carrying on. Goading me, _lets hear you roar_ ,  
“And anyway,” I began, I knew I was kicking off into a rant but I attempted to keep my cool as I didn’t want to spoil the vibe in the room, “You don’t talk to me, so why should I talk to you?”  
“I do talk to you, Bea, you know I do,”  
“Oh really? Could’ve fooled me, seriously Issac. You hammer my phone for a day and then it’s like you completely forget about me. Sometimes, I feel like you just use me and it’s not fair. Either bother with me or leave me alone, you can’t do both,” I wasn’t angry at him, I was annoyed I will admit that, but I was angry at my mum. Angry at the letter, angry at everything. He just happened to be getting the brunt of it, being sat next to me and trying to talk to me even when I had asked nicely for him to leave me alone. But the curveball I had threw at him didn’t seem to phase him, for he took it in his stride. Completely calm,  
“Alright, I’m sorry. I know you’re angry right now, I know there’s something hurting you and when you’re ready to talk about it I’ll be there to listen okay?”  
I felt terrible. Guilt taking over any hostility I held, new to feeling tipsy again could I feel my emotions mix. My lip wobbled and I gulped down a little sob, casting my gaze to my bottle in my hands. Warning myself silently not to cry. His finger pulled my chin upwards, and the sweet smile almost completely broke me down,  
“Whenever you’re ready,”  
His lips touched my forehead, the gesture was more than kind. My throat was dry as the upset crammed itself inside, my head found his shoulder as I cuddled into him. His cheek resting on top, he quietly said to me,  
“In your life, Bea, you’ll meet people who’ll tell you not to cry. Tell you it’s weak and those people are idiots. If they hurt you, it’s because you know they lack intelligence and emotional maturity. Full of bitterness and anger themselves, if you remind yourself that’s how you’ll never stoop to their level you know? Stay true to yourself. You’re allowed to be sad, you know. The world will forgive you, if you just let yourself. Sometimes, crying. Being sad, it’s one of the bravest things to do. But you know what’s braver? Getting up after it, showing that you’re better than whatever is making you sad. Just don’t forget to get back up,”  
It was now I let the tears flow, hiccuping. He was right, crying was only natural. But I was tired of it, tired of crying. I know what you’re thinking, Christ. Does this girl ever stop crying? I know, I am honestly fed up of it too. I felt as though it was something I only ever did as of late, every other emotion pushed away from my being. Where there was the love, the light, the laughter was an aching hollowness. I was once honest, truthful and full of more love for life than you could ever understand. I had been soft, kind and gentle but now I was nothingness; the sadness a part of my identity.   
I couldn’t help myself as I laughed through a sob, wiping away the wet on the back of my sleeve. Not leaving his shoulder,  
“You really do talk shit sometimes,”  
I felt his smile on the crown of my head, my own mirroring him. I watched as he drank before he lowered the bottle, telling me,  
“I guess that’s another thing I’m good at.”


	5. Chapter 5

M  
y hangover wasn’t as bad as what I had braced myself for. Barely a headache, but the tired stage lasted for days. Me and mum barely mumbled a word to each other, only coming together as I had a medication review. After it, we would be going back to ignoring each other. As long as we kept out of the other’s way, the silence never really bothered us. Mum chose to spend a lot more time in her boyfriends, and I enjoyed the peace.   
I was a lot more familiar with the doctor’s than I was with the hub, but that never made it less daunting. Despite it’s efforts to make it as warm as possible. A picture of a beach was sprawled on each wall, each depicting beautiful scenery; rolling waves on idyllic sand. Across from me was a tiny wooden coffee table holding health magazines. Underneath it was a dull grey carpet that covered the whole room. A television hung in one corner displaying boring health advice,  
“Why do they always take forever?” I mumbled in a huff, careful not to speak too loudly and catch the attention of the receptionist,  
“I know it’s a pain, darling, but you’ll just have to wait.”  
I held my tongue, something spiteful on the end of it.   
The morning after Kate’s was full of hungover mumbles and sleepy sighs. I shared a bed with Kate and Sam, whilst Issac took the couch. His hangover being the worst of us all, for he could barely mutter a sentence without running for the toilet. Between slow chewing of breakfast, we all were content. Surprisingly. Although I would have loved nothing more than to move into Kate’s where each morning would be full of black coffee and the radio; I knew I couldn’t leave my mum. Not whilst there was still cracks that needed fixing. Me and my mum were never an apologetic family, stubbornness and traditional British. Our apologies were in the form of avoiding each other’s gazes and asking did the other want a brew; and then all was okay. Not completely, but enough. Mum began listing all the things I needed to remember to tell the doctor, there was only so many times I could say ‘Okay’ Before I snapped,  
“Alright, mum!” I sighed, calming, “Alright, I get it. I know, okay? I get it.”  
Right on cue did come the eye roll and the huffy puffy moving in her seat, wrapping her cardigan across her chest in an offended manner. I may I have gotten my father’s looks, but I got my mum’s characteristics and traits. Just like myself, mum hated when somebody would get irritated with her or around her; taking it personal,  
“You don’t have to get all shouty, Bea, I’m only trying to help.”  
Like my mum, I gave an eye roll. It being something all of the Flowers family did, we were a family of stiff upper lips and eye rolls. Very white washed and getting offended over things we didn’t need to, I wasn’t as bad as some. I cared about the damaged ways of the world, which anybody should, but I didn’t involve myself in things I didn’t need to.  
“Beatrice Flowers?”  
Called the receptionist. Both my mum and myself rose, heading for Room Two. I still had yet to tackle handling doctor’s appointments on my own. With the therapy, that was easier. Given it something more private to myself, but with doctor’s I felt more vulnerable. As though they were judging me and simply wanting me to hurry up before I’d even spoke. Even though I very rarely did, mum always did the talking for me.   
My doctor had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She greeted us through a tight lipped smile, awaiting to get this over and done with. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. I can never relax around such expressions. I need a genuine face, preferably a smile, but if not I'd really rather they didn't fake it. Her eyes were blank of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. She checked over my blood pressure, measured my height and weight. Through the examination she gave commands rather than requests. She pointed out I had dropped half a stone since she last saw me and asked how was my eating, mum answered for me. She asked if there should be any concerns over it, again mum answered for me. The doctor didn’t like this but continued to scribble down notes, we both sat down. Joining mum, and the review began,  
“So, Beatrice, the team have handed over your notes and everything I need,” Her fingers began flicking through the thin file as she asked, “You’re here for a medication review, is that right?”  
“Yes,” Mum, again, “She’s here to see if we can get her dosage upped,”  
The doctor gave my mum a once over before turning to me, “And why would that be? What’s the matter?”  
I wanted to speak. I wanted to tell her how making my cup of tea wrong can send me spiralling, but something distressing can leave me void of any emotion. How some days my mouth refused to accept anything solid, and other days I can’t eat enough. Some days I sleep and sleep, others I can’t sleep at all. But yet, I said nothing,  
“She’s,” Mum shifted in her seat slightly, clearly uncomfortable, “She’s not doing very well, it’s like living with different people. It’s like she’ll come down and be happy as Larry, talking and talking. She’ll disappear and come back, and it’s like lights are on but nobody’s home,”  
The doctor began chewing the inside of her cheek, eyeing me, before turning to my mum and asking politely,  
“Karen, I understand you’re concerned but Beatrice-”  
“It’s Bea,” I inputted, quietly,  
“- _Bea_ , is an adult. She can talk to me, so, would you mind stepping outside whilst we have a little chat?”  
The question hung in the air and I felt the panic trickle from my lungs to my intestines. I looked helplessly at my mum, who began rising,  
“Oh God, sorry. I didn’t realise I was taking over, force of habit,” She gave a weird little laugh, flustered. She sent me an apologetic look as she began collecting her things. I was desperate for her to stay, feeling like a fish out of water. I wanted mum there, I wanted her to speak for me for with mum she could say a few words, we’d hopefully get the prescription and just leave. I was scared in case I spoke of something I shouldn’t have, and I’d end up being forced into taking something new. Forced into something I knew would completely disrupt my current living,  
“I’ll be outside,” Mum told me, giving me one more look before she was gone. I hunched slightly with defeat, fingers beginning to pick at each other as I couldn’t hold the doctor’s gaze. She stared at me quietly, almost as though she was analysing me. She cocked her head slightly and asked,  
“Does your mum always talk instead of you?”  
“Sometimes,” I swallowed, “But I don’t mind, I get anxious when I have to do it myself.”  
“And why’s that?”  
“You tell me,” I tried to joke, “You’re the doctor.”  
I tried to smile but felt it falter from my face upon seeing the serious look given to me. Another stare down, it was then I could see it. The sympathy breaking her professional facade,  
“Bea, I get it. It’s scary, but you can’t hide behind your mum forever. Your mum doesn’t know how you’re feeling. Only you do, so, I’m going to ask again. What’s the matter?”  
“I don’t know,” I admitted, exhaling as I sat back, “It’s different. I mean, it’s not as bad as what it used to be. Every day, it would be something new. Like a wave, up and down. Now it’s more like a trickle, you know? A puddle that you splash every now and again, lately it’s been a bit more intense I won’t lie. It coming more often than not, that’s why I want to up my dosage you know? To stop it before it becomes that wave again, stop it before it gets bad again. You’re right it is scary, I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. The mood swings, the paranoia, everything. But sometimes it’s easier, having her here. Like a crutch, a safety blanket. It’s all I’ve known,” I then leaned forward, on a roll, “Look I get it okay? I get it, you read about this kind of thing when you go to university. You don’t live through it, you don’t feel what we feel and so I get it must be tiring, listen to us moan and moan all the time but it’s hard you know? It’s hard, living like this. Feeling like you’re screaming and nobody’s listening, like you’re drowning in water nobody else can feel. It’s not always bad, sometimes you get this feeling in your chest. Like everything’s beautiful and happy, and then the sadness it hits you twice as hard. So, I understand you’re tired but so am I, we all are. I don’t mean to sound horrible, truly, I don’t. You’re just doing your job but just take it into consideration before you tell me I don’t need to up my dosage, I do. It’ll save us all the job further down the line when I’m too sick to admit I need any more help,”  
I didn’t notice when I had started crying, but I just couldn’t stop. Like the boot from my chest had been lifted. The doctor handed my over the box of tissues and I took one gratefully. Wiping and dabbing at my cheeks, sniffling. This was the first time I had seen a medical professional that wasn’t a therapist look at me with genuine sympathy,  
“You’re right, Bea, you have me there. I don’t know how you’re feeling, only you know how you’re feeling. Not me, not your mum, only you and that must be scary. Feeling like nobody gets you, nobody understands but there are people who do, you’re not alone. Now, I won’t go into the big “There’s always somebody to talk to” Speech, I can only imagine how many times you’ve heard. So, what I am going to do is what you’ve asked,” She began typing up what I presumed to be my prescription on the computer, “And I want you to take it easy alright? Come back to me in six weeks, we’ll do another review. If they’ve worked, we’ll continue. If they make you feel weird, at any point during the six weeks make another appointment and we’ll go from there okay?”  
She signed off the little green paper and handed it over to me with an authentic and sympathetic smile, and I could only feel pathetic. Pathetic that I’d even had sergeant major feel sorry for me. I mumbled a thank you and took the sheet, it still warm from the printer, rising out of my seat. I headed for the door when she called me back,  
“Remember, any time during the six weeks okay?”  
“Yes, I know. Thanks.”  
I left the room and headed down the corridor. I felt exhausted, as though everything I had been holding in was left behind in the room; leaving me empty. Mum spotted me and jumped up,   
“Bea? How’d it go?”  
“Got what I went in for,” I grunted, passing her the sheet and walking past her. She was down my ear, close beside me,  
“Well what happened? What got said?”  
“Nothing, mum, for God’s sake just leave it.”  
I had talked enough and now I wanted to just get the tablets and get home, mum would leave off for her boyfriend’s and I would be alone. Exactly what I needed, and for once; did mum listen. We climbed into the car, saying nothing. The radio talking for us. I knew mum wanted to ask, as any mother would but all she needed to know was that the prescription was given and I had gotten what I had asked for. Mission complete. If nobody ever asked me again how I was feeling, it would still be too soon. I had given everything I had in me to the doctor, explaining as best as I could without her sounding out the alarm. I felt like ripping my hair out sometimes when I would go visit her, her cold stare always set my teeth on edge but seeing her in a new light made me feel better. Better than I had in weeks and for the first time; like somebody was actually listening.  
And for the first time in weeks, I slept peacefully without waking up once. 

****  
Between the emotional weight being taken from me and the new dosage; I found myself sleeping more than ever. I needed a nap as soon as my eyes opened, my body trying it’s best to play catch up. But today, sleep would have to wait for Issac was coming to keep me company as mum was staying in her boyfriend’s for the weekend and I couldn’t be bothered with female company. I just wanted somebody I could completely lounge around with, somebody who got all things psychiatric.   
As he had saw me in my natural state in Kate’s the morning after, I didn’t bother going all out, a little mascara here a little blush... Alright, so I’m lying about the make up. I did what any woman or girl would do (Without sounding sexist, sorry!) I contoured and glossed as best I could without looking like I had gone to effort - a good hour effort, might I add. I shook out my hair to give the whole “Who me? Oh, just got out of bed five minutes ago daaahliiing” Vibe. The sweatshirt and shorts being the only thing that toned it down. I waited upon hearing his knock, trying to not seem too eager. I gave it to for five before I made head way. His smile was bright as I opened the door,  
“Ah Ciao Bella!”  
Ever since I had told him about my Nonno (Granddad for those non-Italian.) Was from Lombardy, he now only greeted me in broken Italian - given his vocabulary was very limited he tried his hardest,  
“Been at the google translate again?”  
“Might’ve been,” He smiled coyly, “Nice sweatshirt.”  
“Thanks,” We did our usual of teasing each other without saying anything but as much as I enjoyed the flirtation of it all, I just wanted to sit down,  
“Come on, I’ve got you a brew upstairs. La camera da letto awaits,”  
“Ooft talk dirty to me, Beatrice.”  
We shared a laugh as we made our way through the house. I didn’t bother with a tour, if he wanted to nose around he was free to do so at his own expense. A house was a house to me. It appeared he felt the same for he just followed me up the stairs and to my room,   
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I stretched out my arms, fingers shyly hidden by the cuffs. Issac trailed in, having a nosy at the room from his spot, seemingly intrigued by the walls that held my life together,   
“Sweet digs,”  
His eyes lit up and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t smug when he noticed the record player and collection. He headed straight for it, picking up one of the vinyl covers. Gently holding it, eyeing it up as if it were gold,  
“Ah, you have The National? Sick,”  
“I have, and I have the Live at Sydney Opera House on vinyl too,”  
It was though I had told him the best news possible, his mouth wide in joy,  
“Marry me.”  
I laughed, playfully knocking him with my elbow and telling him to shut up. He dug around and found the album. Tender with his hands,   
“Oh my God, I’m so jealous. Can we put it on?”  
“Knock yourself out.”  
He was delighted, like a kid who had been told to go wild. I headed over to my night stand, picking up my cup as I sat on the bed. Watching him, suddenly very aware that he was here. Touching my things, being in my space. I watched his fingers as they moved the needle over and the dulcet sounds relaxed us both. He threw himself down on the bed, leaning his weight on his elbow as he propped himself up sideways. Again, so confidently one with himself. He had been here a mere five minutes, and it was though he owned the room. Like he had made it his own, magical. Purely magical. I passed him his tea and we drank in silence, the music talking where our words failed. He let out a groan,  
“You have The National _and_ you can make a good brew, again, marry me.”  
I giggled at him as I sipped. He was right, I prided myself on how good I could make a cuppa. Although a very mundane and easy thing to do, there was a particular art to tea making. The right amount of sugar and milk,   
“You think mine are good, you need to taste my dad’s. He makes the best tea you will eveeer taste,” I proudly stated, placing the cup back down on the stand. He narrowed his eyes at me,  
“That’s a very bold statement, Flowers. I’ll have to try it to judge,”  
“If you’re lucky.”  
He put his hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt,  
“What? Excuse me you should be _dying_ to take me to see your dad, I’m a ball.”  
“Yeah, a deflated ball more like,”  
He shook his head, smiling,  
“You’re so mean,”   
“I know, I’m awful.”  
Our sarcasm was our language, our smiles were our own. A different kind of smile we never gave to anybody else, shy and gentle. Private. I crossed my legs and relaxed myself as his hand became free from his mug as he placed it on the floor and held my knee, his body lay out across my bed, almost though it was a natural thing for him to do. Like he had done it countless times before, not as though he was seeing me in my home environment for the very first,  
“So,” He began, “How’d the appointment go?”  
I knew he had opted to save the conversation for when he saw me, rather than messaging me. I didn’t take it to heart when I had told him I was going for a medication review and his reply was very short for if we talked about it too much; there would be nothing left for us to talk about when he got here. I would rather it have been not spoken about at all,  
“Okay, dosage has been upped. Turns out,” I gasped sarcastically, “I _am_ a mental! Who knew?!”  
He laughed at me, his shoulders moving up and down. He decided to play along as he mimicked my gasp,  
“Oh my God really! Well I never would’ve have guessed that!”  
I didn’t mind that he completely agreed that I was, in fact, a mental. When usually people poked fun at me for it, it was meant with malicious intent. As where with Issac, it was nothing but light hearted and meant in a good way. He eased his laughter and grew serious,  
“You alright though, yeah?”  
“Mmhm. I’m kind of just tired. It was like that when I first got put on them,”  
“Tell me about it,”  
His agreement took me by surprise,   
“You’re on meds?”  
I knew he was still new to talking to anybody other than a professional about himself. Struggling. But the high spirited Issac I knew came and stayed as he joked,  
“Oh yeah, I am the King of Medication. You name it, I’ve been on it!”  
I felt my eyes crinkle as I smiled at him. He lay on his back, his head placed between my legs. The affection was unexpected, as though he had forgotten who I was. Or maybe I was thinking too much about it and he was just more comfortable with me. I began playing with his hair, timid with my touch in case he found himself being too vulnerable. But he didn’t seem as though he would be any time soon, voice vibrating as it hummed. Getting lost between my fingers and the music,  
“You have really long lashes,”   
I hadn’t meant to have pointed it out but they were so thick and dark, fluttering across the tops of his cheeks. His eyes opened as he peered up at me, his mouth twitching as it threatened to smile,  
“You’re so weird.”  
But he let me continue to toy with his hair, fingers twiddling and curling around the tips. I could feel his body sink into me, easing into it. I began massaging his scalp and I heard him mumble,  
“I could feel asleep right now,”  
I didn’t say anything, letting him enjoy it. There was something with the way his head fitted perfectly into my lap, becoming heavier the more he unwound. Letting me tease his scalp and curls. Something that was so perfectly familiar with it, as though we had done this a hundred times before. This, was the exact company I needed. Somebody letting me use their hair as a stress relief, their body into mine as though to hold me without wrapping their arms about me. Not asking me over and over how I was feeling, letting me just be. I began brushing his left eyebrow, the miniscule half moon scar an adorable imperfection that carved faintly into his skin. I ran my finger along the bridge of his nose, the large and spread out bone and flesh soft and smooth. I realised what I was doing but I couldn’t help myself as I began tracing the outline of his lips, hopeful he was asleep. I was froze when I felt his hand take my fingers and my heart raced, thinking he was telling me to stop. But he took me by surprise, lifting each finger to his mouth as he gave every one of them their own attention. Slowly and gently, as though he was making sure not one of them got left out,  
“So soft,” He mumbled into them and the light kisses were so powerful, so intimate. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to kiss him, feel the plumpness on my own, never mind my fingertips. I wanted him to wrap himself around me, overpower me with affection and tenderness. He moved my hand to his chest, resting his own on top of it as he began to stroke it. He let out a quiet laugh,   
“I really want to kiss you.”  
I knew the laughter was to test the waters, for if I were to reject him; then he could say he was kidding. But I couldn’t reject him, I’d be an idiot if I did,  
“Then kiss me.”  
His hand hovered, as though he was trying to work up the nerve. He rose from my lap, slowly turning to me; gaze getting shyer and coyer,  
“Are... Are you sure?”  
“Just kiss me.”  
My stomach was bombilating in anticipation as he stared at me, so innocently. Almost frightened to now cross the line we had been dancing on. His fingers came up to my jaw, hand cupping my face. My cheeks getting lost in his fingers. Begging for my attention to be on him, his eyebrows raised as he awaited for consent. All I gave was a slight tilt to the side, allowing him to slide in. He was gentle with the initiate contact, his thumb caressing my skin. But it was me who hardened it, desperate for more. He gave me more without putting on an x-rated display. Sweet in his kisses. I could tell by the slight push into me that he ached to lower me downwards, fully wrapping me up into him. My fingers found their way to his chest, tangling themselves with his St. Christopher. The pendant twirling between my fingers.  
Somewhere between the music and the fairy lights, this was how a first kiss was supposed to be shared between two people. I had been used to drunken snogs and gropes in bars, so to be kissed with such a passion made my head swim,  
“That’s not how friends are supposed to kiss,”  
My words came out in small gasps as our foreheads touched, chests rising and falling deeply. My fingers still wrapped up in his chain. His eyes grew dark as he admitted,  
“Who said we’re friends?”  
He was now smiling, which I couldn’t stop my lips from mirroring. He was the first to pull away, a loving kiss placed on my forehead. I missed his lips instantly. He rose from the bed and wandered over to the record collection, eyes searching and hands on hips. Collectively cool again, as though he hadn’t gave me the best kiss I had ever received,  
“Come on, let’s see what else you’ve got.”

****  
We weren’t friends any more, that was given. But we weren’t tied up in one another, we were going along with whatever it was. We talked and laughed between shy kisses and secret touches. In therapy, we now always sat next to one another and he would cheekily find some way or another to touch me. Whether it to be he “Dropped” A pen and his finger would graze my ankle or his palm touched my lower back as he moved past. We took every opportunity to touch, to feel, so secretly yet so publicly. Exhibitionist pleasure.  
I enjoyed the thrill, the temptation of being caught. I enjoyed it more than when we were free to be however we wanted out of prying eyes. A secret, inside information only we knew. We even kept our friends guessing. It was my turn to watch him in his environment, invited to watch him as he worked along side Peggy. Peggy was more wonderful than I remembered, mouth like a Sailor with the face of a grandmother. Her charm putting Issac’s to shame. He wore the dotted apron all staff were required to wear with pride, secured in himself.   
The rain had yet to let up, the sunshine we previously had didn’t seem to want to come out of hiding. Our Summer was short lived it appeared,  
“Try this, Peggy’s been getting everyone to lately,”  
He sat on the empty chair opposite me, passing over the plastic cup. The little straw inside a nod to the turtles,  
“What is it?”  
“A new milkshake, we’re trying it out before we put it on the menu.”  
I was a little weary, knowing Issac it was something disgusting he was giving me as a joke. But I tried it nonetheless and it appeared Peggy was talented when it came to making shakes. The texture light and frothy, sweet with a hint of vanilla,  
“Oh my God,” I moaned, “That, is amazing. What’s in it?”  
“It’s a secret.”  
I couldn’t get enough, sipping more and more before I eventually finished it. I wanted to ask for another, but I didn’t want to be greedy. The cafe was nicely filled, the right amount where the staff could be lazy and not rushed in serving out orders. Meaning I got more time with Issac, whilst Peggy and one of the other male staff manned the station,  
“What are you doing on the 18th?” He asked, picking up his straw as he licked it clean,  
“What, next Friday?”  
“Mmhm,” He knocked back the remainder of his drink before placing the cup down, eager to know what my answer was,  
“Nothing, I’m only a 10 till 2 as I’ve put in a half day. Why?”  
“Mum’s throwing a barbecue, if it’s not raining. Kate’s coming, you fancy it?”  
He leaned his forearms on the table, and it was now I saw more closely the little tattoos that loitered around his delicate wrists. The ink complimenting the prominent bone,  
“Yeah, okay, yeah sure.”  
I had tried to sound as breezy as possible, given I was a bundle of nerves. Meeting his mother so soon hadn’t been a possibility to me, for I thought it would be something I’d thought I’d be doing when we were a lot more serious. We’d only just kissed, only just worked out we were... Whatever we were. Now I’d be meeting his mother, surely it was too soon,  
“Don’t look so scared, Bea, it’s only a barbecue.”  
Easy for him to say, to him it was a barbecue. To me, it was meeting the woman who had given birth to him. The woman who could make or break our entire situation,   
“What’s the occasion?”  
“We always do it,” A shrug, “I don’t know why, I think it’s just one of them family traditions you do the natural force of habit.”  
I wouldn’t know, our family wasn’t particularly big on my mum’s side. So family barbecues and get togethers weren’t always on our list, we only ever really met up on funerals as the limited selection of people lacked in children. Aside from my own, there had only ever been two other Christenings. Both for my younger cousins, nobody had, had a baby since. On my dad’s side was a different story, more family than I could keep up with. But once mum and dad divorced, the glue holding us all together, I very rarely saw them. Again, only meeting up on funerals for dad’s side were protestants so Christenings were never a thing and as we were so big; barbecues were always out of the question as there was always some form of family drama going on,  
“Bea?”  
“Yeah?”  
“You’re wandering.”  
I blushed as he smiled and I apologised, I admitted my nervousness,  
“Why? Listen, mum will love you. Don’t worry, plus I’ll be there obviously. Kate too, even Peggy’s going to pop in. You’ll be fine,”  
“I don’t doubt your mum is lovely, really, but it’s your mum. You know?”  
“Trust me, she’ll love you. I promise, she’ll just be happy that I’m happy,”  
“And are you?”  
“Of course look see” He gave a big cheesy grin and we both laughed. The anxiety relieved from my chest and shoulders. I softened, eyeing him with a head shake,  
“How do you do that?”  
“Do what?” He was bemused, but smiling. Brow twitching in question,  
“Make me eased, happy. It’s mad,”  
He grew shy at this, picking at his straw as he looked down. The two of us now saying nothing, bashful with one another. But I meant it, every word. I looked to my right, watching as the droplets all raced against each other on the glass. I liked the rain, my dad had taught me to love it. He would say he liked it because in the rain, you go unnoticed. People rushing to get to wherever they need to be, heads down. In the rain, you could do whatever you wanted. Go under the radar, invisible.   
A flood of customers came in, my cue to leave and his to get back to work,  
“I better go,”  
I nodded and we both began to rise,  
“I’ll text you alright? Get home safe,”  
He said his goodbye through a kiss on the forehead before he disappeared behind the back of the counter. I waved to Peggy and exited out the door. 

****  
My mood was undefeated, finally feeling something other than sadness. The happiness tickling me inside out, pulling my mouth outwards and colouring my cheeks. The bad weather was relentless, rain cloud after rain cloud, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t thanks to Issac, this was mania. My hands passed out many coffees, mouth chatty and posture tall. Moving as quickly as I could, feeling as though somebody had slipped something in my drink. The cafe was quiet and it was then I noticed Edith sat at the back, watching people pass by. I wanted somebody new I could chew the ear off, and so I headed over,  
“Alright, Edith.”  
“Alright, girl, coming to join me?”  
“Yeah, why not.”  
Joined her I did, sitting opposite her. Edith didn’t dress like how a woman of her age would normally, not a bit of knitted wool in sight. Skinny jeans with rips in the knees, a t-shirt cuddling her shoulders. The epitome of cool. The only thing aside from the wrinkles and the liver spots on the back of her hands that gave away her age were the large pearls that were laced around her neck. Each piece differently shaped, unique in their own right,  
“You seem to have a spring in your step, what’s been going on?”  
“You know me, Ed, little bit of this and a little bit of that.”  
“Ah, a curly bit of this and that I suspect?”  
Me and Issac had bumped into Edith on our way home from group last time we went and it wasn’t hard to tell there was something there,  
“Now now, Ed, a lady never tells as you would say.”  
We smiled at each other,   
“I remember, when me and Howard first started dating. It was all new and exciting, it never left. The spark, right up until he died. It was always something new and exciting with him,” She turned to look outside, sipping at her tea, “He used to love the rain, whenever it would rain we would always go on a walk. Even at it’s heaviest, he loved it.” She hummed, and we grew quiet,  
Edith very rarely spoke about her late husband, I had never met him but when she did speak about him it was always with fondness. Soft reminisce as she remembered gently,  
“Do you miss doing things with him?”  
I felt rude asking, almost as though it was too personal of a question. But she didn’t seem put off by it. She turned to me, smiling faintly as she placed her drink down,  
“You know, it’s funny when people always ask me that. Do I miss doing things with him, going places with him. Doing things by myself is easy, I can always do those things by myself and it feels good. It’s the doing nothing I miss. We wouldn’t have to talk, wouldn’t have to go anywhere. The just sitting together whilst he read the paper and I’d watch television, just knowing he was there. That’s what I miss, it’s funny but you don’t realise how much you miss it until it’s gone.”  
I had never heard anybody talk about the passing of a loved one in such a profound manner before, the aftermath of the doing nothing never occurred to me. I always thought you sought out the missing of them in habits and places you would go to or do with them. I watched her, waiting for what she was going to say next,  
“That’s how you know it’s real, Beatrice, they’re the one you want to keep. The one you want, the one who is just happy being with you. Sitting with you on a Sunday and there’s nothing else to do but be together, happy with the just being together. Don’t settle for somebody who thinks you need to constantly be doing things to keep it alive, those are just passer bys,”  
I nodded, taking it in,  
“Right, come on. Get a move on, you have customers.”  
I had completely forgotten I was in work, so captivated by Edith’s advice. I peered round my shoulder to see a small queue that Sam was struggling to serve by herself. I jumped to my feet,  
“God, I didn’t realise. I better go, enjoy your tea.”  
I went to leave but was pulled back by a soft grip of my wrist,  
“Remember, Bea, don’t settle for less than what you deserve.”  
I smiled at her and she let me go, getting back to my job. Throughout her advice, flashes of my ex popped into my mind. She was right, the wrong one would always be the one who suggested we do something. Whether it be going to the cinema, or a walk around the park. We very rarely sat still, and then I thought back to mine and Issac’s first kiss. Sitting there, listening to music.   
Happy. Doing nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

T  
he advice I was given by Edith was lovely, but a bugger to forget about. Constantly niggling at the back of my mind. The sunshine finally threatened to push the rain away, desperate to break through the clouds. The air was muggy and the sky was dull, but I was in high spirits nonetheless. Issac’s home wasn’t far from mine, fifteen minute walk give or take. My hands were full with a bottle of vodka, my other with a fake version of wine - I didn’t want to be the awkward one who said I didn’t drink. My momentarily relapse forgotten about, and with meeting his family; I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.   
The home was red bricked and cosy, little vibrant and well kept flower beds graced the front lawn. Gravel driveway and small steps as they led up to the front door, a large tree bent over and kept the grass in the shade. I couldn’t stop the nerves from rattling my hands and given my clumsy record; it was a miracle I hadn’t dropped a bottle. I gave three knocks, listening out for any signs the house was alive. I couldn’t hear the low thuds of music or even talking. I was sure I had gotten the wrong address, that is until I was greeted by the familiar smile,  
“Hey it’s Beatrice Bad Ass gracing me with her presence,”  
“Tis I, may I enter?”  
“You may.”  
He stepped aside and let me through, closing the door behind me. We hovered in the hallway and I noticed it was quiet, I frowned and looked at him,  
“Aren’t barbecues usually louder than this?”  
“Yeah, when they start. But I wanted you to meet mum and dad first before the rest of The Clampets arrived,”  
The little shit knew what he had done, smirking at me as my feet stuck to the floor. Face completely pale,  
“Wha... Issac.”  
“Oh come on, mum’s really excited to meet you.”  
His body moved behind mine as he began pushing me forward. I dug my heels in, my strength no match for his. No matter how much I threw my weight down. I fussed to him, hissing quietly as I swore at him. He laughed at me, telling me it was okay. The house was exactly what I imagined. The painted walls were presented proudly, but I was also hit with this bizarre familiarity, like I’d been there before. It felt like a home. On top of the dining table there were loads of magazines and a newspaper, a half empty glass of orange juice with lipstick on the rim, a burnt-out candle. More pictures and paintings littered the walls, and everything just looked so lived in. My home was pristine aside from my room, everything looking brand new, like something from a catalogue. It felt nice to be in a home where it was exceedingly obvious it was actually inhabited,  
_“Issac I swear to God I-”_  
“Hello, Beatrice.”  
We were now in the kitchen and I froze. It was then I forced an uneasy smile upon seeing the kind face of his mother, backing away at the same time, landing against Issac’s frame, being held in place,  
“Hello.” I returned, a very clear quake in my voice.  
She moved over to me, a huge smile. I think I tried to back away even more, but Issac’s firm stance ceased me. She was diddy, and plump, and she had these giant eyes, green eyes just like Issac’s, her lashes shadowing them in thick waves, her hair a little shorter than his but just as curly and twice as thick. She was bloody adorable, I couldn’t even fathom it.   
“It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” She reached me, practically grabbing my hand and just flopping it up and down since I was too dumbfounded to shake her hand. “I’m Tracy, nuisance’s mum.”  
I didn’t have to turn in order to know he was smiling, eye roll accompanying it,  
“I, I’m Bea. But, you already knew that. I bought this, for you,” I awkwardly handed over the bottle of vodka, flustered as I nearly dropped it,  
“Oh Bea, you shouldn’t have! Thank you,”  
I smiled at her, still utterly awkward. She walked to the counter, endless bottles of different liquor accompanying it,  
“You’re so cute when you get flustered,” His voice mumbled in my ear and I turned slightly, speaking through gritted teeth,  
“Remind me to kill you later.”  
I heard him laugh and it was now he came into view, moving past me and sending me a wink. He touched his mother’s shoulder as he moved around her, grabbing a bottle of beer. He opened it and leaned against the counter, watching me and his mum; who had now came back to me,  
“God, you really are pretty. My son never bloody tells me anything, well he told me your name, how you met, that you were pretty but not this-”  
“Mum,” He warned,  
“-Pretty,”  
I was stinted by her forward nature, now seeing that the friendly and inviting personality ran through the Waters clan. My eyes glanced over at him, another little wink given over his beer bottle. I heard the back door slide open and in came what I presumed to be his dad. Tongs in his hands, faint charcoal smudging his cheek  
“Grill’s ready, what time is everyone getting here?”  
“About three,”  
The man nodded, grabbing the same drink his son did. His mum tutted before letting out a cough, which the man looked at and his face faltered,  
“John, this is Bea. Issac’s _friend_.”  
I knew what it was like, having the whole embarrassing parental thing when it came to bringing somebody to your home. I could see Issac hide behind his drink, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. The entire scene crippling him. So it was clear that Issac had gotten his sweetness and his curls from his mother, but he’d gotten his height and his sharp features from his father. The man stood at around 6’5, completely bald, but he had green eyes too, I could see them from my spot. They were quite a mesmerising family as a whole, Issac was the perfect blend of the two of them. His father was looking down at me, flustered, but with a smile,  
“Jesus, sorry! I didn’t know you were here,” He walked over to me, extending a hand, “I’m John, prat over there’s father,” It was clear the joke of calling their son anything but his name was the heart of the family, it reminding me of the throttling emotion that me and mum were far from anything of a joking family. For when we called each other’s names, we meant it,  
“Hi, nice to meet you,”  
He pulled away as Issac groaned,  
“Right when we’re all finished insulting me, when can we eat? I’m starving.”  
The trio came alive, laughing and talking. Complaining about certain family members who were coming, rejoiced over others who they hadn’t seen for a while. It was weird how relaxed the Waters clan’s approach were to parties and gatherings, for whenever my family did; it would usually mean mum would spend the day completely rushed off her feet. Red faced and stressed. It was getting closer to three and the family mulled around, drinking and deciding what to do next,  
“What would you like to drink?”  
“Oh,” I felt suddenly cheeky and awkward at being the only sober one, “I, I don’t drink so I bought this. I didn’t wanna put you out,”  
“Oh! Don’t be silly, Issac told us. I’ve got you some bottles of the fake cider and beer, saves you sticking to just the boring stuff,”  
I was unbelievably touched at his mother’s thoughtfulness, guilty at her having spending money on me also,  
“Oh, you really didn’t have to I-”  
“Oh nonsense, come on. What do you fancy?”  
I walked to beside her, placing the wine bottle down and eyeing my own little collection she had gotten for me. Some I had never seen before, making a note to ask her where they got it from,  
“I didn’t even know they did a fake gin! I haven’t had gin in so long, could I have a glass of that?”  
“Of course! Lemonade or tonic?”  
“Lemonade please,”  
She nodded and began making me a drink. She handed it over with a smile and asked with a groan,  
“Alright,” John refilled her glass. “What else needs doing?”   
Issac shut the fridge, returning to my side with a few cubes of cheese in his hand, probably leaving a few cocktail sausages without friends.   
He slyly passed me one, hoping to keep our snack hidden from his mother. I popped it into my mouth very quickly.   
“Do we have enough booze?” John questioned.  
“I should bloody hope so! We’ve spent a fortune.”   
“Enough food?”   
“Yes.”  
“A good playlist?” Issac butt in.   
“You can sort that.” Tracy shrugged.  
“Get in!” Issac quietly celebrated to himself, gripping his fist. His arm came lazily around my shoulder, cuddling me into his side, I smiled to myself, completely at ease.   
He slid me another cube of cheese, just out of sight. I tightened my fingers on his waist as a silent thank you. He kissed the top of my head, his silent way of saying I was welcome.  
“Good small talk?” John questioned next, pointing to all of us.   
“Always.” Issac huffed.   
“I actually pride myself on small talk.” I added.   
“Could chat shit to a brick wall this one.” He pulled me even closer. He was probably expecting me to argue, or to playfully hit him, but he was absolutely spot on.   
In fact, I’d say I was relatively flattered by his words. I found myself smirking smugly. “Good. That’s good.” John noted. “You’ll be doing the rounds tonight. Everyone knows that Issac having a new “friend” Is a big deal.”   
“It’s not that big of a deal.” Issac groaned.   
“Whatever you say.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, be prepared.”   
“I’m always prepared.” I proudly stated, glancing at the three. Feeling already at home.

****  
It felt like there was a line of people queueing up to get into their home. Every time I turned around I saw a new face, and it was almost like they’d all seen me before. They were all giving me this knowing smile, a select few approaching me and starting conversations, but most of them just stared at me like they already knew every single thing about me, these ridiculous cheeky looks on their faces.  
Young cousins squealed as they ran about the garden. Aunts circled together as they caught up with one another, the uncles and John circled around the barbecue. Issac’s arms were currently wrapped around, what I presumed to be, a cousin as he stood behind her. Talking to one of the older relatives. His mother was out of his sight, playing host. Me and Kate sat with Sam, who’d tagged along given I was now also invited, and we gabbed. Sipping at straws,   
“Kate, I knew you had a big family but I didn’t know it was this big!”  
Sam wasn’t wrong, the house was overran by family. Snugly fitting in and out of the house, it didn’t seem to bother them. They made it work,  
“Hey, if I told you all how many of us there were you’d wouldn’t believe me. This isn’t even half of us,”  
“Jesus,” I mumbled, eyeing up the party goers. Not a single chair free,  
“Speaking of my family, what’s going on with you and soft arse?”  
I knew it was bound to come up and I didn’t want to seem like I was making a big deal out of it, especially since Kate was family,  
“We’re just seeing each other, seeing how it goes.”  
“Well I’m glad it’s you, his last girlfriend was a nightmare,”   
Kate admitted with a grimace. I couldn’t lie, I was jealous at the mention of his ex. He had told me about her briefly, how she was a short lived relationship of three months. She hadn’t even met his family bar Kate and that was by accident. I was smug that I had even got this far, given we were just in the talking stages,  
“Yeah well, let’s just hope it lasts,”  
I sounded bitter, almost wishing bad on it. Preparing myself for the worst. Kate brushed me off, knowing me well enough to ignore when I was being dramatic. I nosed around, simply enjoying the laughter that circulated around me and the overall content feeling of being surrounded by a family that wasn’t my own. Issac had now let his cousin be released from his arms and wandered over to the three of us, sitting on the step that perched around the edge of the garden,  
“Ah cousin, was wondering when we were going to be given some of your time.”  
“You know me, Kay, life and soul of the party.”  
He really was, working the gathering like it was in honour of him. I had watched him torment younger cousins playfully, smoothed over uncles and aunts. Flirted with some of his mum’s friends friendlily, overall I could understand why his dad and mum had put him on schmooze duties,  
“You enjoying yourself?”  
I looked at him and nodded,  
“Yeah, we were just saying we can’t believe how big your family is!”  
He smiled and laughed, happy as he ever was. The Waters family were a concoction of both brunettes and red heads, showing which genetics Issac got and what Kate was given. The longer I sat, the more I could see the DNA that was shared,  
“Mum wants to know who’s staying so she can make up the beds before she gets too wasted,”  
He looked at the three of us, I knew I was already staying. His mum wouldn’t hear of otherwise, telling me by the time this was finished would it be far too late to go home,  
“I’ve already claimed the guest bed,” Spoke Kate smugly. Sam told us that she wasn’t, for she was on the Saturday shift training up the new girl and she too only lived round the corner so she didn’t mind going home. He looked at me,  
“And you’re on the couch.”  
“That I am.”  
We held our gaze for a moment, a gentle smile shared. Kate’s head popped up on hearing her name being called from the kitchen, she dragged Sam along with her. Issac left the step and took a seat beside me,  
“On your feet, lose your seat.”  
A golden rule. It appeared most families lived by it. I heard the beginning guitar strings of a familiar song and my eyes lit up,  
“Come on, your dad definitely picked this as there’s no way you’re cool enough to play Simon and Garfunkel,”  
“Excuse me, _I’m_ the cool one. If it was up to dad, we’d be getting 70s disco,”  
“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with a bit of blame it on the boogie.”  
It appeared John heard us and he called out,  
“Listen to her, Issac, she knows what she’s talking about!”  
“Alright alright disco music is supreme, happy?”  
He looked at both myself and his dad, hands up in defeat. It appeared I had already made a friend in his dad, but his mum was the one I wanted to impress. The head of the family I had yet to win over, for she wasn’t around. Getting lost in the party goers. It seemed the food on the grill was for the kids, for us adults didn’t get asked if we wanted any; sticking to the drink and filling the littles with burgers and hot dogs to keep them happy. I knew we were being watched, eager family members waiting for an opportunity to embarrass him. Suddenly the song was switched over to an ABBA song and my smile grew wide; Issac gave out a groan of protest,  
“Who put this on?!”  
“Come on, Issac, get your Voulez-Vous on.”  
The who family began belting the tune out, hips swaying and it was apparent all older relatives shared the same dance moves; a right of passage. Some of the men pretended to air guitar, whilst the women were careful not to spill their drink as they all came together. One of his aunts gripped my wrist, encouraging me join. I couldn’t say no and was hoisted to my feet. I got threw into the crowd of moving bodies, hands in the air and legs doing the four square. I laughed as I was caught up in the arms of Peggy, being twirled. The littler ones jumped and giggled in the way kids do. Kate and Sam came from nowhere and joined us, all of us squashed together whilst Issac was the only who sat out but his family weren’t going to let it go. One of the littles, named Freya, begged for him to join. He protested and I ran over, helping her pull him out of his seat. He gave in, one hand taken by Freya’s and the other by me as we pulled him into the dance circle.   
Issac struggled to move, dodging out of the way of stumbling uncles who screamed out the song; wrapped up in one another in loving and drunken embrace,  
“Bea I can’t do this. I don’t dance,” He tried to escape but the wall of people blocked his path.  
I pulled him back, “Oh no if I have to go through this so do you,” I laughed, “Relax, get in the groove maaan,” I started pulling some serious Saturday Night Fever moves, trying to bring him out of his shell. The rhythm was infectious and I could see his feet weren’t listening to his brain as they began moving in time to the beat, followed by his hips,  
“Yeaaah! That’s it!” I encouraged.  
Before he knew it, he was lost in the music. His hands found mine through the crowd, he pulled me in before pushing me back out; spinning me around and pulling me back into his chest. We moved as one, faces drowning in wide smiles. He spun me back round to face him, one hand on my tail bone and the other guided my hand upwards and down. He dipped me playfully, hoisting me back up to him. We twirled, danced and nothing could be happier than this moment. Between the loud belting of everybody as they screamed the lyrics, and the floor shaking as feet stomped; we were joyous. We sung and laugh right into the night.

****  
The party had quietened down considerably, as the evening turned to night. His dad had set up a fire pit, his mother manning it lazily. Drunk off of Chardonnay, happiness and things she loved. The littles had been taken home and given goodnight kisses, most of the relatives were long gone; along with Sam. Only myself, Kate, Issac and his parents, and two or so neighbours hung around. The three of us younger ones joined his dad around the pit.  
The barbecue had gone exceptionally well, aside from one of the littles falling and hurting their knee. But once given an ice pop, all was well. I let out a giggle as John was telling us some story, Tracy poked him with the stick she had been using for the fire; telling him to shut up. Everybody were far past tipsy, Kate had taken the knock. Curled up in the garden chair with a blanket over her, her eyelashes fluttering as she dreamed. It was nearing 2am and it didn’t appear the stragglers wanted to sleep any time soon, soft music played quietly; comforting us and encouraging us to be gentle as we spoke.   
I looked at Issac, watching him drunkenly joke with his mum. Hair flowing slightly in the wind. He looked divine, smelt it too. Sun cream and aftershave. His fringe was beginning to grow long but I liked it, the way it had a curl to it took years off of his face. Even his side profile was finely crafted, delicate under the glow of the fire. Flickers of flyaway flames lighting up his eyes. I wasn’t sure he knew just exactly how much handsome he accumulated but I felt a slight honour as I sat beside him, nobody else privileged enough to be watching him,  
“So, was meeting the family as scary as you expected?”  
“God, terrifying,”   
We shared quiet laughter, shoulders brushing,  
“Your family are wonderful, you’re blessed.”  
Blessed, that’s what he was. To have such a large quantity of family and not one of them had sour feelings towards each other. All sharing more than just the same features,  
“I’m glad, that you like them. They like you,”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, aunt Val hasn’t shut up about you all day.”  
This gave my heart a little flutter, smiling at being told I had been welcomed into the family,  
“I still can’t believe that was your mum worrying before, I can’t believe how relaxed she was,”  
He laughed lowly, now picking up a stick of his own to poke at the fire,  
“Oh yeah, that was pure anarchy,”  
“Your anarchy is lovely,”  
He looked at me, his eyes so warm as he stared at me,  
“I’m glad you’re a part of our anarchy,”  
“Me too.”  
He saw me smiling at him and his knee knocked into mine as he shyly looked away. The remainder of the guests began to leave and we waved at them, them comfortable enough to see themselves out. Leaving just us five,  
“Come on you two, bed” He told his parents as he rose from his seat, Tracy and John were now clumsily dancing and swaying around the fire,  
“No!” Tracy protested, “One more drink.”  
“No!” He demanded, “Go. Behave yourself for once.” It didn’t take much of a fight, especially when John approached her with a benevolent smile on his face, his hand open wide for her. She joined him rather quickly. As Issac watched them leave, he turned to me and I told him,  
“Go tuck them in, I’ll wake sleeping beauty.”  
He nodded, following after his parents and I took to the task of waking Kate. It had taken a few tries before she woke herself up with a snore, I helped her to her feet and led her by her shoulders into the house. She left me behind and mumbled a sleepy goodnight as she trudged up the stairs. I stood in the quiet living room, eyeing up my makeshift bed on the couch. Unsure of what to do next. I began to collect the numerous glasses that were atop every single surface across the house to bide time. The Waters family were wonderful, but not entirely organised. Their relaxed attitudes were lovely, but the way my mother was uptight did come in handy on the off occasion. I did the very best I could in the short while it took before Issac was bounding back downstairs with what I presumed to be sleepwear for me and baby wipes bunched in his hands, standing in the doorway for a while before I turned around and spotted him, taking in the way he had been silently watching me work around his house.  
“Hi.” I smiled, placing an empty bottle on top of the counter.   
“They’re both pretty much knocked out,” He breathed.   
“Good.” I grinned. “I’m definitely ready to go to bed.”   
“I, erm, wasn’t sure whether you needed something to sleep in so I bought one my t-shirts down. Oh, and baby wipes cause I know you’re serious about your skin,”  
He had remembered this from when I refused to sleep in my make up, back at Kate’s house and had her turn the house upside for wipes,  
“Thank you,” I took them gratefully, “And thanks for letting me stay,”  
“No problem,”  
We hovered momentarily, debating on who was going to make the first move. He took the lead,  
“Well, goodnight,”  
“Night, Issac.”  
He began to turn and I didn’t want him to go, his foot touched the bottom step before I called him back,  
“Issac?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Great party.”  
He grinned at me and made his way up the stairs. I didn’t want him to, I wanted to ask if he fancied sleeping on the couch with me. But I wasn’t sure we were quite there yet, and the sofa wasn’t exactly roomy. So I left him alone. I did a little bit more tidying, making sure the family didn’t have to do too much in the morning when they got up and were hungover. Making my way to the blankets on the couch after I was satisfied and my face was cleared of anything. I settled down, the little clock on the wall my only company. 

****  
Ignoring mum was easier when I had things to do, therapy. Going on outings, and work. But when everybody was busy but yourself, the silence that sat in the room was deafening. It had been like this since the letter and I knew she wanted to talk to me, silent peace offerings in the form of dinner and cups of tea. I didn’t drink them, nor did I eat. I had tried to avoid her as best I could, dipping out of the room whenever I heard her enter. Not passing her a glance. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she had enough, but I didn’t care. She was in the wrong, not I,  
“I saw Terry yesterday, he was asking about you,”  
“Hmm.”  
I were in the kitchen, mum was sat on the couch. The open archway keeping us apart. If it wasn’t for the cooking pasta on the stove, I would’ve been upstairs by now. But my hunger couldn’t be ignored, so I braved her attempts of conversation,  
“How did group go?”  
“Fine.”  
Her voice was getting more desperate, pleading attempts. I inwardly sighed as she asked,  
“How’s Issac?”  
I felt my temper begin to twitch my fingertips, threatening to slam the spoon I used to stir the pasta down on the counter,  
“He’s alright.”  
I was cranky, spotty, hormonal and bloated; this conversation was the last thing I needed. Mother Nat-  
 _You know what? Let’s call it what it is: Period. Yes, I was on my period. I know, it’s such a taboo subject but I’m sick of it being so. Period. Period. PERIOD. _  
_We as women go through hell and back; just to make sure our bodies are still functioning whilst you men stand around and helicopter your willies and call us psychos. It’s not pretty, it’s not easy but fellas, lay off. We go through it enough whilst trying to keep up with ridiculous beauty standards we also have the Devil himself carving away at our insides once a month (Sometimes twice.) So buy us something of comfort and leave us be. We’d appreciate it and if this conversation has grossed you out I’m sorry but what are you, five? And as if my disorder wasn’t enough, whoever created me before I was handed over to my mum decided ‘Hey we know she’ll end up with serious problems along the way but why not add another disorder for a messed up menstrual cycle that no painkillers or doctors can sort? Fabulous’_  
Anyway, back to what was going on:   
We became washed over in quiet and I could feel her eyes on me. It took everything not to turn around and tell her to leave me alone. My food was cooked and I served it out, sprinkling some cheese. I didn’t bother with washing up, mum could do it. For she seemed so desperate to please me now of late. I found the whole thing pathetic, and the audacity of her doing everything but apologising astounded me. I wanted to head upstairs before I said something stupid, I walked past her and felt my feet stop as I heard,  
“Beatrice,” She whimpered, “Please talk to me.”  
I hated when my mum got upset, she could do the most vile thing to me in the world and I’d still feel awful if she cried - even if it was entirely her fault. She sounded lonely, in fact I knew she was. Without me to talk to her and her boyfriend in work, mum had nobody. She was never one for friends, I only being the real one she had and after dad leaving she clung onto me harder than ever,  
“Why would I want to do that?”  
I spoke, flat of any emotion. My back still to her, I knew if I looked at her I’d break down,  
“Please, I can’t take this. This isn’t fair,”  
“What isn’t fair, mum, is what you asked me to do.”  
“I know, I-” She exhaled shakily, “I shouldn’t of, it wasn’t right of me. I should’ve just left it,”  
She still had yet to say sorry, and I knew her admitting she was wrong was killing her pride. To have her so vulnerable around me, must’ve felt like a stab wound,  
“Then why did you? Hmm?”  
It was now I turned and my heart cracked seeing her eyes welling up, but the feeling was short lived. It lit the fire in mine. For the more I looked at her face, the more my fingers gripped the bowl. Threatening to throw it at the wall in childish anger,  
“I don’t know... I, he’s my brother. It doesn’t excuse what he did but, it was hard for me. But then I saw how devastated you were-”  
“How else was I supposed to react?”  
“-And I knew, he deserves to be where he is.”  
I didn’t know what to say, I wanted to claim back what was taken from me. The normal emotion of being able to confront my mother without feeling anything, being able to brush her off with a straight face. But I had been and I was so _angry_ with her, angry with her for shoving the letter under my nose (She knew his handwriting, I know she did.) The way she never apologised, still. All I wanted, was a sorry. A real sorry, not the kind you tell your parents you were sorry for sneaking out and it wouldn’t happen again (It would.) A bottom-from-your-heart-shake-your-knees sorry. But she didn’t, and it hurt,  
“Is that it? Can I go now?”  
And there it was, the sadness switching to shock. Audacity that I wasn’t giving in, and along came the huffing,  
“Beatrice, I’m _trying_ here. I’m really trying, why can’t you see?”  
I moved forward, my grip on the bowl tighter,  
“Are you? Are you trying, mum? You haven’t even said sorry,”  
“Sorry? I wasn’t the one who wrote the letter, or did what he did. What do I have to be sorry for?”  
I couldn’t believe it. My mouth hung open, completely quiet of any argument. _Sorry for not saying sorry, sorry for shoving the letter in my face and asking me to sign it? Just sorry for everything, how about that mum?_  
Was what I wanted to say. But I couldn’t. I wanted to be as far away from her as possible, it was quite clear we both weren’t emotionally ready to talk about this, so, I did what I had been taught: I ran from it. She began questioning what I was doing as I headed to the kitchen, slamming down the bowl and spoon before turning on my heels; heading for upstairs. Mum wasn’t letting it go, following quickly behind,  
“Beatrice, please, let’s talk about this.”  
She was in a state of panic, panic of being left on her own. I pulled out my bag from underneath my bed, yanking clothes from the wardrobe and shoving them in. Tears of frustration threatening to spill. I got everything from toiletries to my phone charger, everything that would sustain me for a couple of days,  
“Where are you going? Don’t leave!”  
She chased me down the stairs and my hand had gripped the handle as she sobbed,  
“Please don’t leave me.”  
I debated it for a second, I really did, dropping my bag down and gripping her in a hug. I wanted to cry with her, tell her I was sorry I had made her upset. Sorry I had made her cry, but she wasn’t my responsibility. I was meant to be hers and she was the one acting like child,  
“I’ll be at dad’s,” I grunted. Purposely slamming the door on my way out.

****  
Dad’s wasn’t far from mine, and given I was angry; the walk was done in record timing. The good thing about dad was he never asked questions, seeing his daughter in tears with a large bag in her hand; he simply let me cry and told me to go up to my room and this is where I currently was. My room here was vastly different to my room at home. Here it wasn’t as vibrant, just a room where I got my head down. Never staying in it long enough to add a personal touch. Aside from the little cactus on the windowsill, it was more a guest room.  
I could hear dad’s voice from the kitchen, bellowing out swear words and argument. Mum was on the receiving end. I looked at Maud, her head on my lap, and started stroking her. A dog was the only thing that was missing from my house, the final touch but mum couldn’t handle the mess and would always dismiss my pleas of asking for one. My phone dinged again and I didn’t have to look to know it was Issac, but I couldn’t be bothered talking to him. I just wanted to be left alone.   
My ears twitched hearing downstairs become suddenly quiet, followed by the second to top step creaking under the weight of my dad. It was a mere second before the bedroom door swung open and dad came blustering in,   
“That woman! Bea, I take my hat off to you how you lived with her for so long I don’t know,”  
He sat down on the pouffe, completely frustrated,  
“You were married to her,”  
“I know, no wonder I started going grey at 32.”  
I laughed at him, shaking my head. I continued stroking Maud, watching my dad as he exhaled; chilling himself out.  
“Right, well, I’ve told her you’re staying here and that you’re safe and obviously as long as you carry on going to group and work, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”  
I thanked him, nodding. I hadn’t even thought about living normally, wanting to just stay still for a moment. I knew telling dad that I was going to book a week off work, using some of my holidays, and that I was going to miss a session of group was currently out of the question; me landing on his doorstep disrupting his daily routine. I’d tell him closer to the time,  
“I know, I call her for everything and sometimes she can be a pain in the arse, Bea but she does mean well. I think she does anyway,”  
Me and mum had agreed without even meaning to that we wouldn’t tell dad why we were arguing, both pretending like we’d just simply argued over something silly. Dad was still ignoring what had happened, to save himself the emotional dramatics. For when he had originally been told what somebody who was supposed to be family had done, he blamed himself entirely and when mum let him take the blame; he had decided he had, had enough and divorced her; the final nail in the coffin in the long strain of marriage troubles. The icing on the cake. For a real long time after it, dad was different. More quiet and more sad, no matter how much I tried to comfort him; he’d shout at me. Telling me how he had invited Sean over to family dinners, let him stay over when he had gotten too drunk and couldn’t drive. All those family gatherings, before it all went to shit. But dad couldn’t have prevented it, nobody could’ve. It was nobody’s fault bar Sean’s and yet, everybody else took the blame for him,  
“I know but sometimes I just wish she so wasn’t... The way she is,” I tried to talk carefully, for although dad freely spoke of how much he couldn’t tolerate her; he wouldn’t allow me to talk bad about her. He nodded and sighed,  
“I know, babe, I know. Look, just chill out. You’re here now, whatever has happened will fix itself. But it’s done, just... Chill out,”  
I smiled at him, what else was there to say?  
“Are you hungry?”  
“No, but I’ll have something later.”  
After dad had been caught up in the wrath of mum, the awkward of being a comforting parent followed. Food was his way of giving me a hug. He walked over and lightly patted me on the head before leaving me be. A pat on the head, a dad’s way of saying ‘It’ll be okay’ Maud followed out behind him and I was completely alone. 

****  
Once dad had gotten used to me being around and settled, he let me call up work on my day off. Requesting a holiday and Derrick was understanding, he couldn’t argue with me for I had gave the twenty-four hour notice and was more than a hard worker. I even came in on days I wasn’t required, helping him out and so he owed me. The people at the hub wished me well, when I had called in saying I couldn’t make the group that week; as long as I didn’t take too much time away - reminding me you were only allowed to miss two before you were called in for a meeting over whether you could stay on the programme or not. I promised I wouldn’t, I just needed to skip the one session - I didn’t have it in me to go.   
Time at dad’s had me more laid back than ever but with routine, although I slacked when it came to personal hygiene. I know, I sound gross but I had just about enough energy to brush my teeth and put on deodorant. At dad’s, we were rather lazy with tasks like doing the dishes and hoovering. Treating our time together as a holiday rather than temporary living. But he didn’t let me sleep in and I liked it, waking up so I could waste my day watching The Three Stooges and Charlie Chaplin movies with him. Some days we would take Maud for a walk, others we would let her run free around the garden whilst we vegged out. Although the sun outside was cracking the flags, we kept the curtains closed; ignoring the world and its ongoings.   
But by day four, I couldn’t ignore the dirt in my hair and the grease on my skin. So, I treated myself to a shower, a shave and a face mask. Letting my hair air dry. During my time here, dad was teaching me how to cook. Different meals on different days; today was a vegetable curry.  
“I don’t think I’m doing this right,” I giggled whilst chopping a onion, dad peaked over and shook his head with a smile,  
“No, smaller! There you go, that’s better.”  
He stirred whilst I chopped, Maud hungrily eyeing the food on the counter. Between the smell of the sauce and the laughter, I was happy. My giggling faltered and we shared a frown upon hearing a knock, alerting Maud who began to bark,  
“Are you expecting anybody?” I asked, trying to calm her down,  
“No, want me to get it?”  
“Nah I will, keep Maud here.”  
Dad took over, gripping Maud’s collar in his hand as she attempted to wriggle free. I moved through the kitchen door and closed it behind me, her barks becoming muffled. I felt my face completely drop upon seeing the familiar frown as I swung the front door open,  
“Issac? What-what are you doing here?” I tucked a piece of damp hair behind my ear, hiding slightly behind the door as I was suddenly aware I was in old cotton shorts and a stained t-shirt. He looked furious and, quite frankly, fed up,  
“You weren’t answering me and Kate said you hadn’t been to work and when you didn’t come to group I wanted to know you were alright.”  
“So you thought you’d turn up to my dad’s?”  
“What else was I supposed to do, Bea?”

“Bea? Who is it?”  
Dad now appeared, wiping away cooking ingredients on a tea towel whilst Maud continued to bark in the kitchen,  
“I... Erm... Dad this is-this is Issac, he’s from the group. Issac this is David, my dad,”  
Issac reached a hand forward, his frown replaced by a polite smile and dad accepted it. Still eyeing confusedly at the uninvited stranger. Issac played the part, smiles and handshakes,  
“You didn’t tell me you were expecting company,” Dad’s tone was full of scold, unprepared as a third plate would now have to be added to the table,  
“I wasn’t I-”  
“It’s my fault, Mr...” Issac’s voice faltered as he looked at me, realising he didn’t know dad’s last name,  
“ _Burke_ ,” I prompted,  
“Burke,” He repeated, with a another smile, “Bea hadn’t been to group and I just wanted to make sure she was okay,”  
“Oh how nice of you,” Dad then looked down at me, his eyes telling me I was a liar that I hadn’t called the group. I had, which is why I couldn’t understand why Issac was here. I knew the people at the hub would’ve told him I wasn’t going to make it as he was a volunteer. So, why he thought it would be alright to turn up annoyed me.  
We hovered in the doorway, unsure of the next move. Maud barked furiously in the kitchen and I used that as an excuse,  
“Dad, Maud’s going nuts can you go check on her?”  
Dad’s fatherly instincts kicked in and I could see he was torn on watching us and doing what I asked. I widened my eyes at him and glanced at the kitchen door before back to him, warning him silently to leave us. So he chose the latter, kissing me on the forehead and eyeing Issac one last time before he left us. I then turned to Issac, my face twisting in a glower,  
“You. Front steps.”  
I followed him out, closing the front door behind me. I winced a little at the sun, having not left the house all day. The colours around me too bright and vivid. We took a seat on the front step, I was careful not to sit too close. I wanted to keep as much emotional and physical space from him as possible. He sensed this and huffed,  
“Have I done something? Have I upset you?”  
“No.”  
“Then why are you being funny?”  
“I’m not.”  
“You are.”  
“Not.”  
“Are too.”  
We now both huffed at each other. Turning away, my arms folded across my chest and his were threw up in an exasperated sigh,  
“I don’t get it, first you tell me I should make more effort then when I try you completely shut off. What do you want from me, Bea?”  
I stared him down, shocked he was making this about him. Although he was right, I had harped on and on at him to make more effort with me, the fact he thought it was personal, my silence, had me stunned. The narcissism faintly trickling through his words,  
“Ever thought that maybe, it’s not about you?”  
“Well what is it about, Bea?”  
I wanted to tell him, of course I did and I kind of wished Kate had told him what had been going on as she knew the full low down. But I was also grateful, keeping our bond and secret sharing tight together,  
“Nothing, I’m... I’m just having a bit of a shit time, that’s all.”  
I looked down at my hands, picking at the skin around my cuticles. I could see out of the corner of my eye his scowl soften, his shoulders loosening,  
“Look, we’ve all got stuff on but you don’t have to do it alone,” He went to touch my knee and I moved it away, I didn’t want him to touch me. Scared in case I cried, for I had worked on building myself to be happy again. Work on getting to grips on my sadness during my stay in dad’s, anything comforting from Issac would open the flood gates. He pulled his hand back, sighing,  
“I’m just saying, I’m here for you. We all are,”  
“I know, I know. But I’m fine, I’m dealing with it. You don’t need to worry, none of you do just right now I need time to myself. Work on myself, you know?”  
I finally looked at him, his face niggling the guilt that I had tried to push down,  
“I understand, but... I miss you, I do. I missed you at group, I miss talking to you,”  
I said nothing following this, ignoring his eyes that were so desperate to getting something from me that wasn’t the emotional range of a garden stone. I missed him too, I missed being around him. I missed simply doing nothing with him, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to care for somebody other than myself right now,  
“Issac, I’ve been thinking... I think... Maybe we need to...” My words grew thick, I couldn’t look at him as he asked. His voice was strained, bracing himself,  
“Need to what?”  
“Spend time apart.”  
I squeezed my eyes shut. Listening out for anything that indicated what he was feeling, his voice was quiet as he stuttered,  
“Wh-why?”  
“Because, we... _I’m_ not ready.” I finally looked at him and it completely broke my heart upon seeing the devastation on his face, he looked helpless. His face screwing up in confusion,  
“Is it cause of the barbecue? Look if you didn’t want to come, you could’ve just said. I would’ve understood,”  
“It’s not that.”  
I felt horrible, he had been nothing but kind and patient. He had finally let somebody in, let somebody into his family home and now, I was proving exactly why he shouldn’t have,  
“But... Well don’t I get a say? That’s not fair.”  
I turned to him, and he was the one who moved away slightly, shutting me out and it hurt. God, it hurt,  
“Of course you do-”  
“Really, Bea? Because it sounds to me that you’ve already spoken for us.”  
He spoke the word ‘Us’ Like it meant something. Like it burnt his lips, stinging his mouth,  
“I’m not speaking for us,” My voice was beginning to heighten, “I’m speaking for me. _Me_ , Issac. Not us, I just think... I’m just not ready. Not now,”  
“So what you expect me to wait for you?”  
He rose to his feet and I regretted what I had said, but I couldn’t take it back,  
“No! Of course I don’t, maybe when I’m better. Maybe when I’ve got it together we can try then but now, Issac, I can’t I-”  
“But what if I don’t want to try then?”  
“Then that’s your choice. I’m sorry, I’ve made up my mind.”  
He concluded that I wasn’t going to budge. The air around us both suddenly dark. The Issac I had come to adore completely vanished, the twinkle in his eyes had been put out. The person stood before me was somebody I didn’t recognise, as though the anger had completely taken away anything lovely. He shook his head, looking out before he spat,  
“Yeah,” A snarl, “I’m sorry too.”  
He stormed off and I choked out his name, standing up. But he didn’t turn back, not even to glance. Anything happy I had felt as of late went down like a lead balloon. My shoulders shook and I let out a sob into my hands, distraught. I wanted to run after him, tell him I was sorry. Tell him I didn’t mean it, but I would’ve been lying. Stringing him along during this wouldn’t have been fair, it wouldn’t have been fair on anybody. I heard the door behind me open and I turned to see the concerned face of my dad, my lip trembled,  
“I’ve ruined it, dad, I’ve ruined it.”  
His arms came around me and I sobbed, wetting his t-shirt. I had finally gotten Issac Waters to open up to me, give me his heart and I completely crushed it in my hands, laughing in his face. My dad guided me inside, holding me and calming me down.   
I couldn’t believe I had done it, but this was the first time I hadn’t acted on an impulse. I had thought about it, over and over and I knew what I was doing was right but it didn’t stop it from hurting. He deserved somebody who could devote their time to him, care for him and have room for him but I just simply didn’t. I knew that I had to learn to love myself, before I could love somebody else.

****  
I didn’t realise the aftermath of breaking away from Issac would disturb so many aspects of my life. Finding myself avoiding all places I would usually wander, such as The Pilgrim and ducking into the back when he would come to visit Kate in work. I had yet to see him but hearing through Kate, he seemed to be doing okay and as much as I would’ve liked to hear he was miserable; I was glad he wasn’t feeling how I was.  
I was surprised to see his space empty when I had went back to group and as much as I wanted to ask where he was, I didn’t want to overstep a line. For his personal life had nothing to do with me, not any more. Group was okay, I had been making somewhat of progress. Speaking up if something was worrying me, joining in on activities. I was still staying at dad’s and although I had yet to address my issues with mum, life was pretty still and I was okay with it. My relationship with Sam and Kate remained unaffected; the two had told me they weren’t picking sides and were now regular visitors for at mum’s they never felt entirely welcome, as where at dad’s we had sleepovers and wine nights, and it helped me maintain some control over everything bad.  
We were currently getting ready, the local club sometimes did open Mic nights. Chilling out it’s usual vibe and Bryan was playing tonight. Although it took the girls a lot of begging for me to come, I was looking forward to it,  
“Boots or heels?”   
“Heels.”  
Sam seemed happy with mine and Kate’s answer, finishing up with getting dressed. Sipping on her drink in between brushing out her hair,  
“I can’t wait for you to see Bryan play, he’s so good.”  
Me and Sam smiled at Kate, continuing getting ready. Sam brushed mascara through her lashes in the mirror and said,  
“I just hope Issac and Tally aren’t there,”  
She had completely forgotten I was there by the sounds of it, for Kate kicked her from where she sat on the bed. My chest tightened but I didn’t flinch, Sam’s face dropped as I asked,  
“Are you on about Tally the new girl?”  
Nataylia was her real name, she was the new girl Sam had been training up. One of the lucky ones who got a spot on our team. She was pretty, young in the cheeks with a full pout. Of Spanish descent, what we had guessed from her name and her tanned skin; being told we were correct as her dad was from Fuerteventura; himself and her mum meeting when her mum was on a family holiday when she was teen. A few years later they were married and out popped Tally. She was lovely, but her name and Issac’s being put together turned my feelings toward her sour. Kate shot Sam a look before she turned to me, timid,  
“Issac took her on a date, they... They’ve been texting.”  
“Oh,” I frowned, “Well, good for him.”  
I moved from my seat and began getting dressed, avoiding my friends. Kate spoke from behind me,  
“Sorry, Bea, we have been meaning to tell you,”  
“Why? It’s got nothing to do with me,”  
“I know but-”  
“So just leave it,” I casually shrugged. I tried to pull off that I didn’t care, when in reality I was completely devastated. Devastated how quickly he was moving on, given it had taken so much time for me to even kiss him; let alone get a proper date from him and now he was wining and dining somebody new. Well, I presumed he was wining and dining her. I just prayed he hadn’t took her to the Sunflowers, although he was free to do what he wanted; I don’t think I’d be able to look at him if he had done so and I was devastated the girls knew and hadn’t told me,  
“It’s got nothing to do with me, like I said.”  
Kate and Sam shared a look before continuing with what they were doing. I sat and mooned over it, the tension in the room rising but I refused to let it spoil my night. I was the one who had chosen to end things before they turned into something, it was my fault. I had made my bed, now to lay in it,  
“Right come on, get a move on the taxi will be here soon.”

****  
Black Rabbit was busy, which made me happy because Bryan had a big audience, but also made me feel extremely tense because Bryan had a big audience. I felt tense for a few other reasons too, if I’m being entirely honest. My fingers were linked through Sam’s as we walked through the front door, the atmosphere around us buzzing in our ears,  
“Right,” Kate started, “I’ll get the drinks, you two get the seats. Got it?”  
“Yes boss,” I joked and she left us behind, weaving in and out of the crowd. She needn’t bother asking us what we wanted, for she knew us well enough. We scurried quickly, pushing through a sea of people and feeling a lot more at ease once I was lost in the crowd. My aim was to stay nestled in the corner all night. I should have been feeling a little gutsier. I should have been accepting the fact I was bound to see Issac and just deal with it, face it head on, but I also felt like maybe I’d had my fill. I’d screamed at my dad earlier on in the day, and it was like my nerves had been drained because of it. I hadn’t really been keen to see him anyway, but I’d exhausted myself. I couldn’t hack another tiring interaction, which it was bound to be, no matter how lifeless. And I imagined, if it was to happen, lifeless was exactly how it would be. I couldn’t see myself ever being able to find the words to say to him, and I didn’t think he’d even _want_ to say anything to me,  
He didn’t want to see me, I knew that. All I was to him was a bitter memory.   
  
Every single table in the room was filled, people chattering happily as a few men set up the small stage-type area, which really only consisted of a few rogue wires and some small amps, but it was enough, and the thought of Bryan getting up there and performing his songs made me feel all jittery. Basically, I was bloody mess of emotions and I could feel it getting worse by the second. Kate managed to manoeuvre through the crowd whilst also keeping our pints almost entirely full, only losing some of the liquid as she pushed towards me, stood in the corner, my stomach knotting,  
“Here we are, drink up.”  
We took our drinks and sipped them, regret setting in that I hadn’t asked for something stronger. The fizzy drink doing nothing to take the nerves away,  
“Are you alright?”   
Sam’s eyes were wide as she waited for me to speak, I nodded. Telling her I was just nervous for Bryan and she accepted this. Our attention turning to the stage. Over time I had gotten to know Bryan and Guy better, now classing them officially as friends. Once I got past the bashfulness around Bryan, and Guy’s serious facade; they really were lovely people to have around.   
Speaking of Guy, he came into view. Giving us each a hug and a smile,  
“I didn’t know it was going to be this packed, neither did Bryan. He’s a wreck!”  
A funky pop tune began to play, passing time as we waited. My head bopped and my knees moved lightly, dancing on the spot as I glanced around,  
“Stop looking for him!”  
I frowned at Kate,   
“What are you on about?”  
“Issac, he isn’t here. I asked if he was coming but he’s busy.”  
“Probably with _Tally_ ” I mocked, pulling a face. Kate laughed at me,  
“Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Beatrice,”  
“I’m not bitter,” I voiced my scorn, “I’m happy for him, see?” I gave her a ridiculous grin, which she rolled her eyes at. Still laughing, her attention now on Guy. They had started seeing each other, and although the housemates arrangement would be awkward if something were to split them up; I was happy for her. He was polite and pleasant, and he made her happy; what else could me and Sam want for our friend?  
We heard someone whoop, and whipped our heads round to accompany the noise, seeing Bryan slowly walk up to the mic. I started cheering so loudly it was almost verging on an insane woman screaming at a pigeon on the street, but my nerves were now showing themselves in pure elation and I was so ready to hear his beautiful little voice.  
“Hello.” He greeted the room, his smile so mesmerising and large. “My name is Bryan Kelly, and I’m gonna sing you a few tunes.”   
He took a step back from the mic, looked down from his hands as they began plucking at the string, creating the sweet tune to the song he’d told me about before, one he’d wrote about some girl he’d left back in Manchester, a girl he’d grown up with, the love of his life. My lips were tugged upwards.   
“I feel like this is how parents feel when their babies take their first steps.” Sam whispered. Not that any of us had much frame of reference, really, but I couldn’t help but feel that the comparison she had just made was absolutely spot on.

****  
Bryan’s gig had gone well, aside from a few hiccups. He had been swarmed with congratulations when he left the stage, and now every other act had played; the club had turned back to itself. Loud dance music blaring in our ears. We sat on the balcony, our height given us advantage over the speakers. The upstairs out looked the club but was a lot more relaxed. Red table cloths draped across with little lamps, the booth seats coated in leather. The upstairs also had it’s own little bar, and the area was meant for more exclusive club goers but as Bryan being one of the acts; he got use of the perks as a part of his payment.  
Kate was right, Issac hadn’t turned up and it looked like he wasn’t going to; so I relaxed. Not glancing around every two seconds. Bryan worked his charm on us, and I giggled like a school girl but we knew we were only ever going to be friends so we flirted without it meaning anything,  
“Right, my round who wants what?” I asked, rising to my feet. Doing the usual of being given orders before nodding and heading to the bar. The barman was handsome with a boyish charm, fresh in university judging by the faint shadows under his eyes,  
“What can I get ye?” A scouser. I loved the accent,   
“Erm two fosters, two pink gins and lemonade and a coke please.”  
He smiled and began carrying out the job. I watched him, enjoying what I saw. He reminded me of an actor from the show Brookside, nice smile and energetic. He put the drinks in front of me and quipped,  
“So, who’s the borin’ one on the coke then?”  
“That’ll be I,”  
“Why, y’ drivin’ are ye?”  
I smiled at him, taken by his charm, “No, I just don’t drink,”  
He took my card and smirked at me, his eyes twinkling and I knew the look from anywhere,  
“Why? Y’ a case when ye rotten?”  
“Something like that.”  
We gave each other a knowing look, flirting with one another,  
“So, ye ‘ere with ye fella?” He asked, picking up the card machine.  
“No, don’t have one.”  
“Am not surprised, anyone would be stupid t’ let a girl like you out their sight,”  
“Why?”  
“Ye messing aren’t ye, you’re gorgeous.”  
I rolled my eyes at him, but couldn’t help be affected by his words as I smiled. I knew the barman’s game, flirt with the punters in hope they buy more; earning you a little tip along with it. He tapped the card on the machine and after it went through, he went to pass it to me but pulled it back,  
“Y’ can ‘ave it back, if ye give me ye number.”  
“Are you allowed to do that?”  
He shrugged cockily and I couldn’t say no. I wasn’t loyal to anybody. I laughed at his cheeky demeanour and slid a napkin from the side,  
“Pen?”  
He was prepared, pulling one from nowhere and passing me it. I could feel him watch me as I wrote my name and number down, exchanging the napkin for my card and the drinks. He looked at the piece of tissue and repeated,  
“Bea? Nice name, mine’s Tim,”  
“Thanks and nice to meet you,”  
He gave me a wink and then moved to the end of the bar, serving somebody else. I felt my cheeks flush and I was tempted to give myself a pat on the back for playing it so coolly. I picked up the tray, careful to not drop it and froze as I turned around now noticing two new people at our table; feeling my heart drop to my stomach. I could hear him joke about something, the whole table in bouts of laughter. Issac’s voice was as beautiful as I remembered it being. I’d tried to forget how deep his voice was, how the sound was somehow smooth, effortlessly entrancing. There had been times where my body had reacted to his call previously, my lips lifting, my heart beating faster, my cheeks tinting a colour they had never been before, but in that moment, his voice made my stomach drop even further.   
But I was here to enjoy myself, and with the knowing I had just had a beautiful man ask for my number; I threw my shoulders back. Heading for the table,  
“Ay up, kids, I’ve got the drinks,”  
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t. But it was killing me not to, I shared the drinks out and Tally smiled at me, saying hello. I was polite but tight lipped. She turned to Kate and began gabbing away, it was then I looked at him. When his eyes flicked to the side, and he saw me, his sentence was cut short. His lips remained parted, and his eyes remained linked with mine, and we just stared at one another. It was intense, and even though my stomach was knotting and frothing I couldn’t take my eyes off his. It was almost like I was reintroducing myself to his features, reminding myself of his sharp jaw, his full lips and his soft skin,  
“Bea?”  
I sat down and looked at Sam, forcing a smile,  
“Yeah?”  
Sam began talking about something or other, I wasn’t listening. I could only focus on him, our seats next to each other as every other was taken. The familiar aftershave cracking the icy facade I was trying to pull off. This was the first time I had seen him in anything other than something comfortable. He looked so handsome, it was devastating. The suit was finely crafted and tailored in the colour of navy with a freshly new white shirt, expensive material and Italian leathered shoes on his feet. His watch caught my eye; the links were big and silver, his hair combed and curled perfecting it all together. But this wasn’t him, this wasn’t Issac.   
Between Tally’s little dress, and Issac’s suit; I wasn’t blind to see they had been on a date - stopping by to see us once they had finished,  
“Yeah,” I mumbled, “That sounds great.”  
Sam could see I wasn’t in the mood to talk and turned away, chatting to the girls. My mood to party had evaporated, the sweet fizzy drink making me feel sick. I looked around the table, feeling out of place. Uncomfortably aware that I was under dressed compared to everybody else. I felt like I was going to cry. I couldn’t even fathom why that feeling was pushing itself on me but it was overwhelming. Issac looked at me again as Bryan left him alone and talked to Guy, and then it was almost like he was just about to say something, his chest puffing and his lips stretching. But then his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowed, and he turned to the rest of the group; smile returning to his cheeks.  
I couldn’t do this. Our obvious spark we shared was still there, the tension was palable. Only we could feel it, I knew he felt it. For his knee knocked into mine and I watched as he tensed, I held my breath; waiting for what was to come. But he simply moved it away, ignoring me. I picked up my drink, and began to sip at the straw; hiding my wobbling lip.   
Now I really couldn’t do this. I tapped Sam’s knee quietly and lowly told her,  
“I’m gonna go,” I swallowed, “I’m done in.”  
She knew I wasn’t tired, she gave me a look and I could feel my eyes welling up. I don’t know why I was so sad, I had no right to be. It was my fault, I had put myself in this situation. I only had myself to blame, she nodded and quietly told me to get home safe; covering for me by telling anyone who’d asked that I’d gone to the toilet - hopeful everyone would be too drunk to notice I had gone. I planted the seed, rising from my seat and I excused myself, the exit surprisingly easy.   
I bounced down the steps, head down. Holding back the tears, bodies bashing into me as I didn’t look where I was going. I felt closed in, being swallowed by the crowd. I pushed through, earning a few glares. But I didn’t care, I needed air. To be away from here as far as possible.   
The cold air nipped at my cheeks, but I wasn’t entirely sure my shivering was down to the wind. I avoided the eyes of the bouncers, I knew they thought I was just another silly girl who had gotten herself too drunk and was emotional because of the vodka. At least with vodka, I could stop feeling this sad. I folded my arms against my chest and began making my way down the high street, I heard wolf whistles from a few strangers as I walked past. I was tempted to flip them off, but instead I used my fingers to pull down my shirt dress further. Hiding anything.  
I halted as I heard my name be spoken breathlessly, the desperation in his voice had proved he had chased me all the way. Frantic to find me,  
“Please, Bea, please look at me.”  
I squeezed my eyes shut before I turned around, as my eyes opened I flinched slightly seeing how close he was. His eyes were as sad as I felt, his hostility completely melted away,  
“What do you want?” I sniffed glumly and he huffed, suddenly getting his back up as though reminding himself of why he had chased me,  
“Look, I know you’re going through some shit right now. I do, but giving the barman your number? That’s not you,”  
“So, you’ve just chased me to tell me I’m wrong for giving out my number? I don’t believe this,” I shook my head, suddenly my tears were dried up and I was no longer upset. He tutted,  
“Not wrong, stupid, Bea. You’re not like everybody else, you don’t do that sort’ve thing,”  
“How do you know?”  
He was smug in his smile, cocky. But it wasn’t nice nor was it friendly,  
“Because I just do.”  
I took a moment, my mouth moving soundlessly up and down. I felt a sudden dull thud in my head, “Is this really happening?” I gawped, pressing my fingers against my temples. “Are you genuinely getting jealous? Is that a real thing that’s happening here?”   
“No! What- No…I… I’m not jealous!” He was quite clearly lying, the smugness turning to bumbling nerves,  
“Why do you even care, Issac? You’ve just been on a date with Tally, go bother her.”  
The situation was so ludicrous, so beyond stupid that I had no idea what I could even say to him. It was so preposterous that we were even having that discussion. His eyes twinkled,  
“And you say I’m the jealous one, _go bother her_ ,” The high pitched tones were an attempt to mock me, “Wow, Bea, never took for you the jealous type.”  
I could feel my temper flaring. He was absolutely right, I was riddled with jealousy. It burning my nerve endings and twitching at my cheeks. The way he was behaving, it wasn’t the playful man I knew. It was somebody horrible and I couldn’t handle it,  
“Go to Hell, Issac.”  
I turned away from him and started to storm away again, and I heard him start to follow me, his footsteps loud and unkind,  
“That’s right, here she is. Beatrice Flowers everybody, running away again!”  
“Go away, Issac!” I whimpered over my shoulder. He snorted,  
“Prove it then, prove I’m wrong. Look at me,”

So I did. I whipped back around to face him, and briefly, there was nothing but anger in my eyes, because I hated that he’d pointed that out. It was so easy to pretend that Issac didn’t have a clue when it came to me, but he did. He knew me so well and I hated it. I wanted to fight that fact, to conquer it and break it. But he knew me. Sometimes it felt like he knew everything about me. His posture softened as he told me,  
“You can’t keep running away, Bea, life doesn’t work like that. Man up, face it.”  
“Face what? You slobbering over a girl you barely know?” I squeaked, again trying not to cry. He knew what he had done, his face dropped before he snarled me,  
“You’re the one who finished this, not me.”  
“I know I did, because I didn’t want to hurt you. You’re free to date who you want, you’re a grown man. But don’t hurt her, just because of us. Just to get back at me, go back to her and treat her right,”  
“What if I don’t want to?”  
“Then that’s not my problem, go back to your date and just leave me alone.”  
I felt completely exhausted, my legs heavy. My bag weighing my shoulder down even though it only held my bankcard, lip gloss and phone. Having Issac there, a man I was convincing myself didn’t know me, stood there telling me things about myself that I hadn’t even realised, was shockingly tiring. He fell silent, stood just ahead of me, and he had no idea what to do. No idea what to say, he scoffed; rubbing his jaw with his hand,  
“But see, it is your problem. That’s the whole point, this whole thing is your fault.”  
“Hang on, I didn’t force you to go on a date. I didn’t force you to start seeing somebody else.”  
“What else can I do, Bea, what else can I do to get over you? There is nothing I can do,”  
“Here’s an idea,” I gasped sarcastically, stepping forward, “Don’t lead people on and just get over it, wow! Magic!”  
“It’s not that simple.”  
“Again not my problem, you got yourself into this mess you get yourself out of it. I’m done with this,”  
I went to turn but was pulled back, his hands captured my face and his lips planted on mine. My body automatically melted into it, it was different to the very first time we had kissed. It wasn’t shy, it was full of longing; my heart hammering in my chest. We pulled away hearing a wolf whistle from somebody swaying outside the chip shop. His hands never left my face as he told me,  
“If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”  
And with that, he left me. Walking down the high street and I stood there, completely floored. My lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. I touched them lightly, still feeling the ghost of his


	7. Chapter 7

I  
didn’t know where I currently belonged. I felt like I didn’t fit in with my friends, and I felt like I didn’t fit in with the therapy group. Issac was the one who tied it all together and now he was gone, I was lost. It was strange, to me, how somebody could come into your life so quickly and make such an impact. The loss of independence annoyed me, I hated having to rely on anybody but myself. As time got on, I became more recluse and I knew Kate and Sam were growing tired of trying to coax me into joining them outside of work but they still tried nonetheless; just not as often as they used to.  
I had heard through whisper that Issac and Tally had gone from dating, to casual, to nothing. If looks could kill, the day Issac had called it off I would’ve been dead for Tally completely snarled me down. I don’t know why, it had nothing to do with me. I hadn’t spoken to him for a month. I kept an eye on him, through his socials and through Kate. Just because I called it off, didn’t mean I didn’t care. Of course I did, he left such an impression on me; I couldn’t not. I didn’t even have group with him, for he now volunteered in another that was held on a different day - meaning I didn’t see him at all. I didn’t even have my mum to whinge to, for we still weren’t talking and dad wasn’t exactly comfortable with feelings and boy chat.  
I felt completely alone and quite frankly; miserable.  
Today, I decided to get out the house to do something other than therapy and work. A bike ride on my spare I kept at dad’s what we used whenever we could be bothered going for a peddle together, I avoided town and drove down the back lanes. The feeling of the warm air whizzing past me and the peddles underneath my feet relaxed my shoulders.   
I came to a halt upon recognising the familiar colour of yellow. Feet touching the ground as I swallowed. I debated on whether to carry on driving, the tall flowers didn’t seem as friendly as last time I was here; more looming down at me rather than welcoming. I kicked my feet up on to the peddles, driving up the dirt track. Careful not to fall as my bike jiggled over the rocky stones. I slowed myself and dismounted my bike, placing it on the ground. Eyes watching the plants as they moved gently in the breeze. I didn’t know why or what I was here for, almost as though I enjoyed upsetting myself. I didn’t bother with knocking on the farmer’s door, for I was only here to look - although I needed a new one as I had done a crap job at keeping mine alive. It died within a week, I was heartbroken.   
I shakily sighed, fingers gripping the cuffs of my jacket. I turned as I heard,  
“You alright, love?”  
A little man, flat cap and a slightly hunched back hobbled over to me,  
“Oh yeah! I was just looking,”  
He was now by my side, smiling,  
“Ah, come to have a little nose?”  
“Something like that.”  
We stood in a moment of silence, both eyeing up the flowers. It felt like only days ago me and Issac were walking through them, the time between then and now seemed as though so much had been packed into it. The little farmer beside me had a face that was kind yet worn, and I knew seeing people come to his field was his only form of company,  
“Come on, you look like you could use a cup of tea.”  
I stared at him as he began to leave before I followed him as he hobbled towards his house, he told me to sit down on one of the deck chairs whilst he disappeared inside. Now, I know what you’re thinking “ _Bea, what are you doing? He could be a murderer”_ I know, I’m not stupid but judging by his limp even my little legs could outrun him. I jumped to my feet, offering a hand as he bought out a tray filled with biscuits, two cups and a pot of tea out. A little jar beside it with what I presumed to be milk,  
“Sorry, I don’t have any sugar. The wife never liked it, haven’t bought it since,”  
I smiled at him as I told him it was fine, and we both sat down. The tea tray being placed on the little wooden table, he began serving it out and even though it was stifling outside; I took it gratefully. Waiting for it to cool before taking a sip,  
“So, what’s on your mind then?” He was abrupt in his questioning, getting straight to the point, it startled me,  
“Oh, erm, nothing. Just thought I’d come up and have a little nose,”  
I had never met the man in my life, only knew of him, and yet even he could read me like a book. He gave me a look, stirring his drink,  
“I haven’t had so many people come up here to not know when they come up to look and when to think, a problem shared is a problem halved.”  
His words stung me, the familiarity to them upsetting something inside of me. I smiled at him glumly before I sighed,  
“Boy troubles,” I attempted to joke, “Nothing I can’t handle though,”  
“Ah, the tale as old as time. What happened, did he cheat on you?”  
“No, God no. He was lovely, I was the one who ended it.”  
“Well why?” I gave him a look, and he continued, “If he was lovely,”  
I thought about it for a moment before looking down at my lap, staring at my tea,  
“I don’t know why I did, I think I got scared.”  
I heard him laugh and I looked up in time to catch him shaking his head, he took a biscuit from the tray and eyed it,  
“Young love, it’s scary isn’t it.”  
“Tell me about it.”  
He now chewed on his biscuit, the munching the only sound. I watched as crumbs ran down his shirt before I turned outwards, following his eyeline as he watched the flowers,  
“You know I’ll never bloody understand you women, always letting your minds get the better of you. You know sometimes, it’s better to listen to your heart. Sometimes the best things come with no logic, being scared isn’t nice but if it’s your mind telling you that you are tell it to shut up and listen to what your heart says, it knows what best.”  
“Not always,”  
“Yes, maybe that’s true but how will you know that it isn’t if you don’t listen to it?”  
I said nothing, he had me there. I had completely listened to only my mind, letting it tell me to run. Run as far as I could, gagging my heart and telling it to be quiet for all it wanted was Issac. It only ever would, and now I listened; it was screaming at me. I laughed briefly as I said,  
“I think I might come up here more often, free cup of tea and a heart to heart. What more could a girl ask for?”  
I sipped at my drink as he let out a chuckle; continuing to pick at the biscuits. We moved on to mindless chit chat. I learnt his name was Ted, and he learnt what mine was. He was lovely and he broke my heart as he told me I was the first person he had seen all day, aside from a local boy who regularly visited; especially when he had something on his mind,  
“You’d like him,” He told me as he was finishing his tea, “All the girls do, he’s lovely,”  
“Are you trying to set me up, Ted?”  
He laughed at me, shaking his head,  
“I’m just saying, the offers there if things don’t work out with your boy. I’ll put in a good word for you.”  
The word boy was spoken with a farmers twang, making me feel comfortable. I downed the last of my tea as the air started getting cooler, telling me it was time to leave. Ted shoved a biscuit in my hand, telling me it was for the journey. I smiled at him, thanking him for the tea and talk; telling him I would be back soon for another round. He told me I was more than welcome. I mounted my bike, sending him a wave before I set off. Once I was gone and back on the road, I bit at the biscuit and smiled;

Sometimes all you needed was a good cup of tea.

****  
I had found a friend in Ted, making a habit of visiting him whenever I could. Today I was inside, helping him out with sorting his cupboards that he couldn’t get to due to his bad leg. His cat Matilda curled up on his lap as he watched me, I was currently kneeled on his kitchen counter for my own height had me at a disadvantage of reaching the top shelf. I found a packet of biscuits buried away and saw they were two years out of date, cobwebs dusted over them,  
“Bloody hell, Ted, how long have you not been in this cupboard?”  
He laughed and told me it had been a while. I shook my head smiling, continuing to sort through it,  
“So, have you spoke to your man friend lately?”  
I hadn’t. It had been now a good two months since I had last saw or heard a peep of him, since the night in the club. I had even stopped asking Kate about him, only ever checking his socials once a blue moon; which I told Ted. He tutted,  
“You bloody kids,”  
I giggled at him, continuing to sort through the cupboards. My visits with Ted balanced between work and therapy nicely, I spent more time up here than I did at home. He fed me endless cups of tea in exchange for helping him around the house, picking him up shopping. I had come to learn he was a man of many stories and I knew his heart was buried with his wife; but I would love him to meet Edith; the two shared qualities so scarily similar; I was surprised they hadn’t met before,  
“Right, so I think I’ve got most of them. Where do you want them, bin in here or outside?”  
“Whatever doesn’t trouble you.”  
I smiled at him, telling him he could never trouble me. We both shared a frown as a knock was heard on the front door, I told him to stay seated as I jumped down. picking up the donation basket and heading for the front door,  
“Hi would you like to-”  
My throat closed and my mouth twitched, Issac stood in front of me; scowling upon seeing it was me,  
“What are you doing here?” He grunted,  
“Helping Ted, what are you doing here?”  
“Come to see him,” A pause, “Where is he?”  
“I’m through here.”  
I stepped aside as I let Issac through. I couldn’t catch my breath. The basket in my hands shook and I placed it down, staying by the door as I closed it. Watching him as Ted greeted him with a smile,  
“Ah Issac my boy, was wondering when you were going to get here,”  
“Sorry I’m late, Peggy’s had me harassed,”  
“Oh Peg, how is she?”  
“She’s good, you been alright?”  
Issac sat down and I stayed with my feet firmly planted on the ground, scared to move,  
“Yeah, legs been giving me gip. Beatrice has been helping me sort through these bloody cupboards, she’s a good girl.”   
I looked away as Issac’s eyes momentarily glanced at me before he turned back to Ted,  
“We were just talking about her man friend, I was just telling her she needs to buck up and just talk to him,”  
“Oh really?” Issac was interested, his eyes suddenly bright. Smug that he was told he was the subject of our talks, he turned back to Ted, “Am guessing she hasn’t,”  
“No, you know women. Too stubborn for their own good,”  
“Tell me about it.”

They talked as though I wasn’t there, I suddenly found my voice and I quipped a little jab at Issac as I moved over to the counter and hoisted myself up,  
“I’m not the stubborn one, Ted, he is.”  
I spoke in code, eyes narrowing at Issac who found it entertaining,  
“I’m sure he’s nothing but lovely and you’re just putting him through it,” Issac pointed out about himself, playing along but clearly loving it,  
“That’s debatable.” I huffed, folding my arms.   
We said nothing whilst Ted began to ramble on about something else, both our eyes glancing at one another. Both longing to talk to one another, but both too stubborn to make the first move. He was fully captured by Ted and I watched him, seeing him in a light I had never seen before. He became suddenly young, face completely relaxed of any tension. Eyes large and bright, smile wide and true. Paying Ted full attention, listening to everything he had to say as where most lads his age would be bored by now; eyes glazed over and lips drooped in disinterest. But not Issac. He looked as handsome as ever and knowing I couldn’t have him, made me want him more,  
“Ooh, I have something for you,” Spoke Ted, beginning to rise, “I’ll be back, stay there,”  
“Alright,” Issac smiled and we both watched Ted leave before the silence circled between us. I hadn’t raised my eyes to him. I wasn’t sure I could stomach it. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say at the same time feeling like I had absolutely nothing I could utter that would ease this. I didn’t know the words that would heal the wounds we had created, and it stung. His hair seemed even curlier than last time I saw, perfect ringlets drooping downwards across his forehead. Parts of his chest was on show as his t shirt scooped lowly, and I realised quickly that my eyes may never be innocent to him again. I was seeing him in a different light.  
Issac was the one who took the plunge.  
“Bea,” He started, “Why are we doing this?”  
“Huh?”   
“This,” He huffed, “Why are we doing this to ourselves? This is stupid,”  
I didn’t know what to say. I knew we didn’t have a lot of time, not enough to get out what I wanted to talk about,  
“I miss you, Bea,” He looked at me and it cut right through me, “I miss you, I ask Kate about you all the time but I hate it, I hate that I can’t talk to you. Please, can we just stop this?”  
I was overwhelmed, jumping down from the side and turning away. I began clearing the counter, throwing away old packets and tins. We had both been a little selfish, but I was the one who could walk away from the situation. I was the one who finalised it. Issac would have benefited from my company, but I needed space.   
“I heard you and Tally broke up,” I said over my shoulder, holding my breath for his response,  
“We never broke up,” He bit, sourness in his tone, “We weren’t a thing, it was nothing.”  
“Could’ve fooled me.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Nothing.”  
“No go on, tell me.”  
I debated on whether holding my tongue or letting it all out. I sighed, pausing briefly what I was doing before I snapped,  
“Well when she came into work it seems she blames me, if looks could kill,” I gave a bitter laugh, shaking my head. I heard him sigh behind me, I couldn’t turn around. Even with his eyes burning into the back of my head,  
“Well I did tell her I was still hung up on you and that it wasn’t fair on her.”  
I froze, slowly turning. I could feel my eyes narrowing, brow dropping,  
“Why?”  
“Because it’s true,” He shrugged, speaking in a manner of fact,  
“I told you this would happen, Issac, and now you’ve hurt somebody else. Well done,”  
I continued cleaning, my movements more furious. I felt awful, I wanted to call up Tally. Tell her he was lying, that it wasn’t to do with me. He was just being a coward,  
“Well it’s true and I’d rather tell her the truth than tell her a pathetic lie,”  
“Sometimes it’s better to lie.”  
“Is that what you do? Lie, to save hurting people?”  
I shook my head, chewing the inside of my cheek. I looked at him and watch him crease his nose and stare down to his hand, his fingers progressively tightening around themselves. I’d hurt him again, without even meaning to; his own bitter words bringing it all back up again. I just wanted to be honest with him, to explain where my head was. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to be the reason I could see his skin crawling, or the reason that the crease between his brows was so imprinted and strong, making his ache visible. I knew he was hurting still, I knew what I had done. But I didn’t lie, I had told him straight and to have him accuse me of otherwise got my back up;  
“I didn’t lie, I told you how I felt. Don’t dare call me a liar,”  
“I’m not, don’t twist my words but I just don’t get you,” He moved from his seat, walking over to me, “You tell me, you tell me how you need more effort from me, I give you it. You ask for space, so, I give you it even though it devastated me. Then, you get jealous-”  
“I wasn’t jealous!”  
“-of Tally, then I don’t hear from you only to see you two months later here and find out you’ve been talking to Ted about me, which is funny cause when it’s me and him you’re all we talk about,”  
He spoke with a weak laugh, shaking his head before becoming serious,  
“What do you want, Bea? I don’t get you, you either want me or you don’t. You can’t have both, it’s not possible.”  
The word possible was so quiet, and he couldn’t look at anything else but me. There was no getting rid of the look of anguish on his face, and I knew that if anything, it was just going to get worse. Where the bloody hell had Ted gone? I was aware of how close Issac had now gotten, feeling smaller as he looked down at me. Closing me in between himself and the counter, I couldn’t look at him. I gripped my eyes shut again, my bottom lip wobbling. I’d never been in a situation like this, not even anything similar. I didn’t have any frame of reference, nothing to go off, nothing to guide me. I was completely losing myself, and he was too.  
“I don’t know what I want I-”  
He cut me off by pulling my chin up by his fingers, forcing him to look at me,  
“You tell me, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me. Tell me to leave you alone and I will, forever.”  
The ultimatum hung in the air, threatening to slice through us like a guillotine. My heart hammered against my chest, reminding me it was there. Telling me he was what I wanted, begging to give in. A huge part of me wanted to leave the room. A huge part of me wanted to remove myself from the situation, but I’d already done that once and it hadn’t helped me. It was just hearing those words, for some reason it made me feel like there was bile rising through my throat. His words made me feel like I wanted to burst into tears yet again. I had nothing to say to him, nothing to say for myself. I just wanted to run from everything, to block it all from my head and pretend that I was still blissfully unaware of the hidden depth of our situation. His chest was pulsing as he staring down to me, waiting for me to say something. Our silence felt eternal,  
“Just say it, Bea and I’m gone, but if you can’t then there’s nothing I won’t do to keep you. Nothing,”  
I had never been spoken to with such pleading before and I could feel my emotions welling to boiling point. He grabbed at my hand, and I was surprised when I didn’t automatically yank it back so it was in my own possession. He took my hand and he kept hold of it, like in a way, it was his. And in a way, it felt like it was. As his fingers toyed and played with my own, his thumb rubbing over my skin like he was still just crying for me to look at him, the only thing that made me feel uncomfortable was how sickeningly right it felt having him touch me so tenderly. I let out a sigh and shakily told him,  
“I want you, Issac, but I’m so scared I’m going to hurt you.”  
He rolled his eyes but a smile threatened the corners of his mouth,  
“You already did,”   
I felt my knees wobble and as though I was trapped, I wanted to escape. Avoiding confronting this but I knew running away would only be a temporary solution. Like a plaster, rip it off,  
“I know I did, I’m sorry. I felt terrible I still do, but I thought if I kept you away. Pushed you away, you’d get over it. Find somebody who can treat you better, find somebody who’s not so messed up,”  
“Bea,” He scoffed, “You think I’m not? You think I’m normal? Of course I’m not, that’s why we get each other. You’re you and I’m me, we work, Bea. You know we do,”  
“I know but I-”  
“So why can’t you just let it happen? Just stop being scared and just let it happen, please.”  
I closed my eyes, sighing as I felt his forehead rest on mine,  
“Please, Bea, I just can’t get you out of my head. You’re all I want,”  
I peeled my eyes back open to be greeted by the clear and shining jade, I so desperately wanted to melt. I couldn’t lie to myself any longer, I couldn’t lie to him. He was right, we worked. He knew it, I knew it. Everybody did,  
“Okay,”  
He didn’t smile but his body completely eased of any tension. Relaxing into me, melting into our embrace,  
“I’ve missed you.” He suddenly pulled me into him, arms wrapping me into a hug. Scared to let go. I couldn’t deny myself from touching him any longer and so I hugged his waist tightly. We stayed together, his fingers began stroking my hair as his cheek rested on the top of my head,  
“I’ve missed you so much, I hated it. I hated going to the group and not seeing you, hated seeing you give that barman your number. I was so angry when you did, but I had to tell myself you weren’t mine. I felt like I’d lost you forever,”  
His words vibrated against my ear and I couldn’t speak. I let him get it out, let him speak the words he was so desperate to tell me after all this time. As though they were coming tumbling out and he couldn’t stop himself. We became ignorant to where we were and stood, only to be reminded as we heard a voice,

“I wonder how long it would take.”  
We pulled apart to see Ted standing in the doorway, we frowned at him and he shook his head,  
“You two take me for a fool, did you really think I didn’t know you were talking about each other all this time?”  
Oh Ted, you bloody wonderful man you.

****  
Since we had come to conclusion we couldn’t keep away, we had began dating again. A lot more exclusive than we originally had started, but nothing had magically changed in our lives. My relationship with mum was somewhat better, but I still lived in dad’s. Work was the same, I was still mentally unhinged and the only thing that was different was things we would usually do separately, we did together. Hands permanently linked. We were happy. Issac was really sweet, although he still struggled with realising he was part of a twosome; he wasn’t shy when it came to affection and gestures.   
We visited Ted regularly, and as a thank you for basically bringing us back together; we offered to mind his house and keep an eye on Matilda whilst he went to visit family out of town. This, now being where we were,  
“Home sweet home.”  
Issac spoke from behind me, moving past me inside. Both of our bags over each of his shoulders, he dropped them on the couch upon seeing the little note left on the table. He moved over to it, giving ‘Tilda a little head scratch as he picked it up; eyes silently reading. He was the one who was originally asked to play house sitter but Ted knew we came as a pair now so he told Issac as long as we kept it tidy; I was more than welcome to join. We were using the time to get to know each other better, see how the other half lives during the two day stay,  
“So, Tilda doesn’t leave the house. The money from the flowers gets banked at the end of every day in his safe, towels are upstairs if needed, there’s stuff in the fridge, yadda yadda, yadda,” He sighed before smiling at me, “As long as we don’t burn the house down, we’re good,”  
“Hmm, we will see.”  
We sort’ve looked at one another, the situation now settling in. The ticks and turnings of the Grandfather clock the only sound. We looked around, mulling over what to do. This, being the first time we had been entirely alone recently. As any other time, somebody was always there. Whether it be our friends, or customers when we visited each other in work. So, given it was now just the two of us; it was suddenly awkward,  
“So, this is nice.” I pointed out, now wandering round the place. Eyes glancing through the cottage. Everything seemed, so, old fashioned. Noticing things and objects I hadn’t before. A checked throw draped over the back of the couch, a little frilly doily over the small dining table, low beams. Everything seemed lived in yet barely touched. I could feel Issac’s eyes on me but I continued walking through,  
“Oh wow,” I spotted the book collection, dust faintly sprinkled over the spines. Issac waltzed up behind me, face next to mine as he peered over my shoulder,  
“What?”  
“Nothing, he just has some serious rare first editions.”  
I couldn’t stop staring, the cracked and faint gold writing entranced me. My fingers skimming over each book before I pulled back, nervous in case I accidentally damaged any of them,  
“They were Maureen’s, she used to collect them. Like you, apparently some of them are from all around the world.”  
My brows popped up in surprise and I could only voice my jealousy.  
“You can read them, you know,”  
“Oh no I couldn’t I-”  
“Honestly, Bea, he won’t mind as long as you look after them” His voice was low in my ear, speaking quietly,  
I wanted to simply just hold them. Some I didn’t know existed, first edition Peter Rabbit and the Wizard of Oz. All books I could only ever dream of having. The woman had serious taste, I would’ve liked to have thought we would’ve gotten along well. Talking about books over hot tea and scones, little touches of her still lingered around the place. Ted hadn’t gotten rid of her completely,  
“Maybe just one? It wouldn’t hurt right?”  
I felt him smile against my cheek, rolling his eyes as he moved away. Doing whatever he was doing, my fingers curled around the Wizard of Oz. Delicate with my movement, I blew gently and coughed as the dust tickled my nose and throat. My mouth opened in awe as I peeled it open, recognising the signature,  
“Wow, it’s signed. This must be worth a few bob,”  
It was like I jinxed myself, too careful with my grip. Not holding it tight enough. Just as the words left my lips, I almost dropped it. Which Issac could only snort at, I cringed turning to put the book back,  
“Maybe I’ll just put this back.”  
He crinkled his nose at me playfully, nodding “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea.”  
I could feel the embarrassment turn my cheeks scarlet and he came to rescue, holding up the kettle,  
“Cuppa?”

****   
We had, had a pleasant day. Filled with shy kisses and giggles, the occasional break to give ‘Tilda a little attention and to answer the door when people came to give donations. We had a somewhat awkward conversation about sleeping arrangements, he offered to take the couch and I told him it was silly. We were adults, we were dating; why sleep separately? I joked also that Maureen’s ghost might come get him and he didn’t find it funny, suddenly pale and suddenly jumping at any noise. He decided we should get an early night, and I knew it was because he was scared - not that he’d admit it.  
Ted’s room was cosy. A little flower painting hung up on the wall, an old box that was a tv stood on an rickety and shoddy wooden stand. A lone wardrobe, thin curtains that engulfed the room in a soft temperament and a lumpy mattress that was held up by an iron frame.   
I sat with my back against the pillows as they protected me from becoming uncomfortable thanks to the metal, propping a book up with one hand, and stroking ‘Tilda with the other. A fresh cup of tea was steaming down at the side of the bed, and I wondered why I’d chosen to drink tea even though I’d specifically picked up a bag of coffee, since I knew Ted didn’t have some in the cupboards. I think he and Issac were really starting to rub off on me. Issac mirrored my position but placed one arm behind the back of his head, his free hand around the remote as he lay it across his stomach. The low noise of the crackled television and the silence we were sharing was just lovely.   
I watched him, a sudden smile as he let out a giggle at something on the screen before I turned back to the book. But I kept catching the ink on his chest and I couldn’t help but wonder,  
“Issac?”  
“Hmm?”  
“What do your tattoos mean?”  
He pulled away from the programme and the softest smile imaginable graced his face, kindness in his eyes as he looked at me. There was always kindness in his eyes, “How long have you got?”  
I nudged him with my shoulder and continued reading, we knew we had all the time at the moment. But I could tell by the sarcasm, he didn’t really want to talk about it. Some I knew ashamed him, embarrassing for he had gotten them when he was drunk and his friend had bought a tattoo gun for cheap; going wild on his skin. Others were personal, the more detailed art. I was intrigued to know but I left it, I’m sure he would tell me some day. The hand that held the remote came free, landing on the covers where my leg lay buried. His thumb began stroking absent-mindedly once he found my knee. Eyes not moving from the television but I knew something was on his mind, by the way he shifted slightly,  
“Bea?” He prompted.   
I didn’t want to answer, I didn’t want to know what he was asking me,  
“Mmm?”  
I pulled my eyes away from the book and I could tell he was nervous,  
“I... I know this is supposed to be a time where I... You know, try it on but... Would it be alright, if we didn’t? It’s not that I don’t want to!” He blurted out the last of his words upon seeing my frown, he sat up slightly to face me better,  
“I just, don’t feel like we need to rush you know? I like doing, well just this with you.”  
Any further than kissing hadn’t properly crossed my mind. I’m only human, it did drift through my thoughts from time to time but I never obsessed over it. I too was content with just being with him, and the fact he voiced he was thinking the same surprised me,  
“I mean, if that’s what you want. I don’t mind,” I reassured him, and he was happy with this. He smiled, nodding before settling back down. I looked at him and at his chest before taking the opportunity to snuggle into him, continuing to read. I felt him kiss the crown of my head before replacing his lips with his cheek, nestling into me. Both completely happy, both completely content. 

****   
We had both fallen asleep easily, legs tangled with each others; wrapped up in one another. The curtains dulled the light outside but didn’t do the greatest job at completely blocking the sun out. I knew it was nearing a time where if we didn’t get up, we would be verging past lazy. Plus, my bladder was tense and I knew I couldn’t ignore it,  
“I need a wee,” I mumbled into his chest, eyes closed,  
“Go for one,”  
“M’comfy.”  
I felt his chest jolt gently as he laughed softly,   
“Me too. Shall we just stay here forever?”  
His voice was heavy with sleep, and it was so relaxing I felt like I could fall back into the land of nod,  
“We’d need to eat,”  
“Nah we’ll just starve.”  
“What about water?”  
“We don’t really needed it.”  
“How long do you reckon it’d take until everyone noticed we were missing?”  
“Hopefully never.” He yawned, cuddling me tighter.   
I don’t know why I mentioned water for now my bladder became painfully hefty against my stomach. I listened quietly to his breathing, getting heavier the more he lay there. I peeled my eyes open and looked up at him, seeing his were still shut; my hand lightly tapping at his stomach,  
“Come on, we need to get up.”  
He groaned, telling me five more minutes. I tutted at him playfully before I leaned away from him, stretching and yawning. I propped myself up on my elbows, eyes searching for the room for ‘Tilda but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. I threw back the covers and left him to get his last few minutes in, making my way out and for the bathroom.  
The house was quiet and still, as though it had yet to wake up from its slumber. I moved down the stairs. I rubbed my arms as I felt a chill run through me and now I understood why Ted had the fire on throughout summer. The dark shadows in the place keeping the house in a constant state of cold. Candles, is what this place needed. Candles and plants, bring it to life again. I flicked on the kettle, carrying out the actions of making tea. I decided to make coffee for myself, trying to break my sudden tea habit. I felt fur twirl in between my ankles, hazel eyes peered up at me as I looked down,  
“Hey ‘Tilda, was wondering where you got to.”  
She gave a polite meow in response before waltzing over to the table, hopping up. Her little bell on her collar jingling. I watched her curl into herself, she was pleasant. For a cat, but don’t get me wrong I loved cats and hated whenever I’d tried to call one over and it’d run away. You could tell by her friendliness she was spoilt. Ted devoting his time and attention to her. The kettle clicked and I poured out the water equally between the two cups, making the drinks. I left Issac’s on the side to cool, sipping at my own and letting him have a few extra moments in bed.  
My mind wandering without realising. I thought back to last night, repeating his words in my head. It hadn’t even occurred to me the possibility of taking our relationship that one step further during our stay here, enjoying his company far too much.   
Alright, I’m lying. I’m lying to you and I’m lying to myself but if you just understood how bloody good looking he was; you’d be the same too. There had been close calls, fumbles and hot kissing sessions that were accompanied by heavy petting but we had yet to do the deed. We had done stuff but just as I would attempt to unbutton his pants would he pull away, which confused me. He knew I wasn’t a virgin, so why the waiting? Did he not want to? His body gave him away that he did, standing to attention whenever we got touchy feely so why didn’t he, just, give in? Contrary to popular belief, women did enjoy sex. Let’s not avoid the subject here, people. We did, some of my friends did nothing but talk about it. I, on the other hand, was 50/50 but sometimes I obsessed over it too. My disorder gave me hyper sexual tendencies, apparently this was something that came hand-in-hand with being a sexual abuse survivor. Ironic really.  
“Ah, you’ve finally arisen. Morning sunshine,”  
I was considerably cheery considering I felt as tired as he looked. He grumbled at me as he came down the stairs, heading for his tea. He picked it up and sleepily walked over to the couch, sinking into the seat. I followed behind, sitting down and tucking my legs up. As usual, his hand came onto my knee as he sipped at his drink. His curls messily fought against one another, eyes heavy and chest bare. He let out a yawn and asked,  
“What’s the plan, Batman?”  
I shrugged, I wasn’t sure what it was. I didn’t realise we had anything to do today, the cottage a bubble of ignorance,  
“If we don’t have anything planned, I was wondering if I could take you somewhere.”  
I eyed him wearily and asked where exactly,  
“It’s a surprise, let me wake up a bit and we’ll get ready.”  
With Issac, we could be venturing to anywhere. For he always seemed to find beautiful little spots hidden between hills and stone. I’d follow him anywhere, I knew I was safe. He, himself was safe. I frowned as he pointed out, rising and now seeing more awake,  
“Right come on, do you have something you can swim in by the way?”  
“I’m sure I can find something.”  
“Good.”   
He put his empty cup in the basin and left for upstairs, sleep now completely wiped away from his eyes. 

****  
It felt like we had been peddling forever, I huffed and whined at him which he laughed at. Not even the shade above us could keep the heat at bay - Summer reaching it’s peak in warmth. After leaving the cottage behind and making sure ‘Tilda had enough food and water; we set off on a journey that just kept going. But Issac is as Issac was, unaffected by the exercise,  
“How are you not sweating!”  
“A woman never sweats, she glows,” He joked, flicking his fingers back against his face mockingly. Effortlessly keeping his bike balanced with one hand. I could only sulk at him, feeling my face getting redder and redder the more I tried to keep up with him. I listened to my legs and fell behind slightly; easing up on the quick movement.  
We were somewhere deep in the countryside, a place where I hadn’t heard a car or seen a house for a while. Not even farm life grazed at the fields that passed us. Eerily quiet. He did a sharp right and I almost went tumbling, balancing myself and following him down a narrow road. It dipped and dipped before gravel sounded out underneath our tires. A bird twittered above me, and I noticed I saw nothing but trees and the green of the grass. We were alone, completely alone,  
“Don’t worry, this isn’t my usual killing spot. That’s up the road,”  
“Oh ha ha.”  
He placed his bike down and I followed, mimicking him. He outstretched his hand, head flickering behind him and I took it. We began to walk down a flattened piece of land, footprints deeply dented into the grass from past shoes. My eyes gawped around in childish wonder, wincing momentarily at the sun that peeked out from the leaves before the trees covered it again. We stayed quiet for most of the walk, just linking hands and listening out as the woodland inhibits chatted away to each other. He began to lead me deeper into the wood, both of us ducking and diving out of the way of branches and nettles. We shared a relieved laugh upon coming out the other side unscathed, Issac’s arms parting tall grass and it was then we came out into a little clearing.   
Above was a large tree that bent over, similar to the one back at his home but more grander and tall. The grass slanted down and spread out as it was separated by stones and pebbles from the lake. Well, from what I could see it was a lake; for I was unsure how deep or long it ran. He looked down at me and smiled,  
“Like it?”  
“Yeah, it’s lovely but why are we here?”  
“Bea, always asking questions.”  
He left me behind, walking forward and placing his backpack down; along with himself. Settling into the grass. I was careful to walk down the slope, paranoid of losing my foot. Once I was on stable ground did I walk over to him, copying his earlier movements and sitting down beside him,  
“So,” I started, “How did you find out about this place?”  
His lips threatened to smirk as he asked, “Do you ever stop asking questions?”  
“Nope.”  
He laughed, looking out towards the river. It faltering before he became serious,  
“Dad used to take me up here, when my granddad got sick. Kept me from seeing it, cause he used to live with us. In the guest room, well it was his room first.”  
“Do you miss him?”  
A nod, “Every day.”  
This made me understand his friendship with Ted that little bit more, finding a grandfather figure in him. Looking after the old man in the way he couldn’t his own, I could only sympathise but I was unable to relate for my Nonna and Nonno were still alive - my mum’s parents were still alive also but I never spoke to them as often as I would’ve liked. I knew they were all on their last legs, but I was blessed all four of them had made it this far. I couldn’t imagine, having them live with me and wither away right in front of me. The pain must’ve been scarring,  
“What was he like?”  
He was right, my habit for asking constant questions was a lot more noticeable now he had pointed it out. But I was curious, always on the hunt for knowledge. Whether this be about how you pumped up a tyre or, in this case, Issac’s lost loved one,  
“Sorry,” I cringed upon seeing he was now quiet, “Sorry, ignore me. My big mouth,”  
Silence stretched out around us. He watched the lake and I watched my nails pick at each other. I hadn’t have meant to have asked, or maybe I had. His inviting nature so welcoming I sometimes would forget that he liked to keep certain parts private. There was something between the quiet and his smile that made me want to confess, tell him why I had originally called things off. I felt as though I had owed him, for he forgave me and welcomed back so quickly; it felt only right,  
“Issac,”  
“Mmm?”  
“I have something to tell you.”  
Judging by the little crease between his eyebrows, he was worried with what I was going to tell him. Perhaps, infidelity or something alone those lines.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing’s wrong.” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “Everything’s fine I just… I need to tell you this… this thing.”  
“Don’t be nervous,” He comforted, leaning a little closer, “You can tell me anything.”   
I knew I could but it didn’t settle my anxiety any less. I plucked at a blade of grass, tearing it up in my hands. I avoided his eyes as I began to explain. I started from the beginning, from the first time to the whole emotionally draining process of the case to finally the letter. He didn’t look away, didn’t show he was angry with me; more angry with himself as though he should’ve known something was wrong. Angry at my uncle Sean, his face darkened on the more graphic parts. Lightening on the, supposedly, good parts; showing he was fully listening as he reacted accordingly and I could only be grateful,  
“....And that’s why I didn’t wanna drag you into it, you know? It wouldn’t have been fair.”  
He said nothing for a really long time and I thought he was trying to avoid the confrontation of something so dark. I could see the information he had been given be thought about over and over behind the shine of his eyes before he then asked,  
“Have you been asked to sign another one?”  
“No,” I shook my head gently, “If he’s sent anything else, mum’s probably hid it. Don’t blame her to be honest.”  
“Well, I’m not going to tell you that you should’ve told me. You don’t owe me shit, you don’t anybody either but from now on if anything else happens I want you to tell me okay? Don’t be scared to tell me stuff alright.”  
“What, like you do with me?” I joked and he lightly knocked me with his shoulder, looking down as he smiled before staring back out. I felt my chest deflate, and the conversation had went surprisingly well. He hadn’t stormed off, telling me I was wrong for keeping him in the dark. I think he knew the last thing I needed was guilt,  
“Are you mad at me?”  
“Why would I be mad at you?”  
“Dunno,” I shrugged and truthfully I didn’t know, apparently blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault was normal if you were a person with the same mental health record as I. Apparently it also stemmed from childhood emotion issues, it all came down to how I was treated or neglected rather as a kid. I thought my childhood was perfectly normal, but apparently you weren’t supposed to feel tremendous guilt if you told somebody no when being asked to do something utterly minor and then being screamed at you were selfish and guilt tripped into doing it anyway. I presumed, this is why whenever I opened up to somebody I presumed they were mad at me for making them feel a certain way. But how they felt had nothing to do with me, unless I had purposely gone out of my way to upset them,  
He reached out and pushed some hair from my eyes, “I could never be mad at you, not for something like this,”  
I couldn’t find the words that would express how grateful I was for him being so understanding. I settled on a smile, that said enough for me. A bird above us rattled the trees as it flew, casting my eyes upwards. I watched it, wings stretching and flexing outwards as it caught the breeze between its feathers,  
“If you were an animal what would you be?”  
“Easy, a sloth.” The answer rolled off of his tongue too naturally for it to be an afterthought,  
“A sloth?” I giggled.  
“Yeah, they’re brilliant. Like, they’re so lazy but like so chill. Did you know a sloth will only go the toilet in the same spot? So, like they’ll travel and travel but then hold it in until they’re back in that spot.”  
“That,” I smiled, “I did not know, but then again I can’t say I’m particularly experienced in the knowledge of a sloth’s toilet habits.”  
“Well, now you know,” He said as he poked me gently. The way he thought, the way he had such a random handful of knowledge at the ready; it fascinated me. He couldn’t tell you where exactly Germany was on a map, but he could tell you how to take care of certain flowers or, in this case, about sloths. It was as though he chose what subjects were worth investing in learning about, whilst others he wasn’t as fussed,  
“What about you?”  
I had completely forgotten that there was a possibility he could ask me; being so enticed by his answer. I thought about it momentarily before I told him,  
“Probably a giraffe,”  
“Why?”  
“They’re my favourite animal, don’t suppose you have any facts about them?”  
“Nope,” He held up his hands, “All out I’m afraid.”  
  
I was glad I had cleared the air, open more vulnerably to him. For I had mentioned details not even Kate knew, not even dad; only mum and that’s because she had to legally be there whilst I talked the whole ordeal out. I felt slightly stupid, unloading such dark trauma onto him. But I didn’t want to hide anything from him, given he had only just allowed himself to talk about certain things, I wanted to be open with him. Keep him close, show him I was serious about him.   
My phone bleeped out and I felt his eyes dart to it as I picked it up,  
“Who’s that?”  
“Only mum, asking if I’m alright.”  
I told her I was before placing my phone back down, and Issac began frowning. Almost as though he were fighting with himself not to ask any further. I knew he was still paranoid over Tim the barman, getting in little digs when he could. I knew the sarcasm and jokes were hiding his truthful fears, and no matter how much I reassured; I knew there was nothing I could say to change his mind - He was the only one who could. I hadn’t heard off Tim, he didn’t even text me in the first place; giving him my number was completely pointless. But Issac didn’t believe me, at first and I knew there was still secret doubt but he never voiced it,  
“Hey,” I bumped him with my shoulder, grabbing his attention, “You okay?”  
“Yeah,”  
He let out a groan as he rose to his feet, looking down at me as he straightened his back,  
“What?”  
His face flickered at the lake before back down at me,  
“Comin’?”  
“Fat chance,” I snorted, “I’ll sit this one out.”  
I could see the cheeky smile return, kicking the frown from his face and he slowly approached me; mischievous intent twinkling in his eyes,  
“Wrong answer.”  
His arms came around me, hoisting me up and throwing me over his shoulder. My legs and arms kicked and thrashed in protest but he was too strong. He simply laughed me off, water came underneath me as it pooled around his ankles and my face dropped as I felt myself be freed from his arms. I found myself completely succumbed to the water. My eyes peeled open, surrendering. Little bubbles erupted from my mouth. Hair floating around me, becoming tangled. I kicked my legs and moved my arms as I attempted to get my limbs used to their new surroundings. The air that previously filled my lungs expanded with the water that completely swallowed me and for a moment; all I could think about was the water... The warmth... Nothing else. Time around me seemed to still for a moment, getting lost between the movement of the lake.   
I came up for air, letting out a loud gasp. Issac’s face came into view as he now swam beside me, hair dark as water droplets trickled down his face. Laughing as he shook it out, smoothing it back and wiping his face in one movement,  
“Oh that was so not funny!”  
“Was a little bit.”   
We mocked each other and my body became used to the heavy weight. We began circling around each other, smiling and giggling. Splashing at each other. He suddenly became serious as he told me,  
“He would’ve liked you,” He took a moment as he let me realise who he was talking about without actually saying it, “He would’ve liked how happy you make me,”  
“Do I?”  
“Of course.”  
We stayed bobbing, arms keeping us a float. Eyes locked on one another, enjoying it all,  
“You make me the happiest I’ve felt in a while,”  
I caught my reflection in the mirror that was the lake and I could see the blush that tinted my cheeks. I moved over to him, bravery jolting through me as my hands gripped his shoulders,  
“You’re so cheesy,”  
“Am I,”   
We laughed and I pushed him into the water, well tried to for his strength was far too powerful for me and he didn’t budge; making him laugh harder. I loosened my grip on him but stayed close, eyes searching him for any insight into what he was thinking. His hand came up to my face as he stroked it,  
“You’re so beautiful, Bea, really.”  
I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off. Playfully pushing back his shoulder,  
“Oh shut up.”  
But he wasn’t joking, wasn’t playful. Simply serious, nothing of complicated emotion on his face. We began circling around each other again and quickly became young, ducking and diving. I knew how it would’ve looked to anybody else if they happened to walk by, two idiots being childish but we were happy. So ridiculously happy. If there was one memory that I would like to bottle, open it whenever I was sad; it would be this. I never wanted it to become a memory, live in it forever.   
When I was with Issac, I always felt somewhat innocent. I didn’t feel like a cheap vice what ex lovers had made me feel, he never made me feel like he could so easily throw me away and that I was the one who should be grateful for his time. He made me believe I was worth something, made me feel like I was loveable. Making me so painfully aware of my self worth,  
“What are you thinking about?”  
His voice brought me back and I shook my head,   
“Nothing,”  
I watched him lay back and begin to float, looking upwards before closing his eyes. My legs still kicking as my height wasn’t exactly handy when it came to the depths of water, I swam over to him and laughed,   
“What are you doing?”  
He didn’t say anything, just continued to float. His arms stretched out by his sides. He looked so completely relaxed, I wanted to curl up into him. And I knew if we weren’t in the water, that’s exactly what I would’ve done,  
“Did you know-”  
“Oh here we go,”  
“-It takes a woman an average of two months to start falling in love but with a man it takes four? Which I find weird, cause I felt like it was so much quicker for me.”  
I wasn’t sure he had realised exactly what he said. Both of us still stilled, everything around us became so quiet. Neither of us knew what to do,  
“You’re falling in love with me?” I breathed, scared of what his answer would be. I couldn’t believe he had mentioned the ‘L’ Word but it wasn’t as though we had only just met, it wasn’t as though this was fresh. We had dated and split off, we had came together again and shared things, shared fears and dreams. Learned each others habits and little rituals, it wouldn’t be normal if we hadn’t started feeling something deeper than fondness,  
“I think I’m _in_ love with you, Bea, I know it sounds so sudden but,” He shook his head and tilted himself straight. Beginning to keep his body upright with his legs and arms as they moved under the lake’s surface,  
“I think I am,”  
“You think or you know?” I tried to joke, he smiled at me bashfully and told me to shut up. His eyes searched mine, flickering across them before he swallowed and continued,  
“I know, believe me I know it seems too soon. But, you just know don’t you? Like, it’s just there. I know, I sound daft but... I am, I’m in love with you.”  
I wasn’t sure whether I was entirely in love with him, I knew I was falling that was certain but I felt as though he might’ve been confusing his feelings of lust for something else. I felt as though he was right, when saying it was too soon. For surely being in love was something you built up to, something you worked on; not felt suddenly and out of nowhere. But I wasn’t exactly an expert, for the closest thing I’d ever felt to being more than attracted to somebody didn’t turn out brilliant and we split up before I could gain experience in the area.   
I looked at him and shook my head, grinning,  
“Ooh, I wouldn’t be if I was you.”  
“Why?” He frowned, watching as I swam over. I gave him a look before I dived on him, successfully shoving his body under the water and the youth returned to us. Booting the serious talks to the curb, I knew what he confessed to me came from the heart but I didn’t want to hurt him by telling him I wasn’t completely sure I was so deep in my feelings as he was. I knew I felt something intense, it twisting my insides and shouting at me whenever he was around but like I said; I wasn’t sure if it was love. Infatuation perhaps? Either way, I couldn’t say.   
He let it go, but I knew it was bothering him that I didn’t say it back. We continued to play in the water, doing somersaults underneath. Getting out and diving back in, giving each other’s scores on how good the diving was and we didn’t talk about anything else serious for the rest of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

A  
fter Issac’s confession it was never brought up again. I had yet to say it back, I felt as though I owed him; like I should say it back just to save him from feeling like his love was going to waste. It wasn’t, not of sorts. For I bathed in it, letting it drown me and intoxicate me. But it wasn’t a magic fix, it was a good support system but it didn’t heal me entirely. Didn’t take away all things dark, it just helped me manage it better. Sort it all into boxes within my head, but some days I still struggled to cope. Some days the black dog would still yowl and howl at me from the end of my bed. Some days, I could ignore it and some days I stroked it; giving in.   
Issac pushed me to speak to my mum, told me I only had one mum and that I should treasure her. I felt as though he hadn’t listened to me, back at the lake, hadn’t heard me speak of how she had shoved a letter from my abuser under my nose. But he was being biased, basing the decision off of his own relationship with his mother and although I would really rather keep my mother at bay; I gave in and eventually talked to her.  
The talk wasn’t easy, full of anger and sadness. Through tears and tantrum, we came together in hugs and she finally apologised. We both acknowledged that we both had been too stubborn and that we should’ve properly talked it out, she confessed that she was just so scared it was going to completely break down all the progress I had made over the years. I told her that although it was hard, I was a lot more headstrong than I was in the past and that she needn’t be so protective or worry so much which made her remind me that she was my mother and it was her job.  
Overall, we had put a temporary plaster over the emotional wound and it held up. It sustained us for now and we were okay.   
September was looming and the air was getting colder, I couldn’t wait until I could get my jumpers out and drink hot chocolate without judgemental stares. People would often tell me I was weird for not enjoying summer whilst it was here, and I argued back that they were weird for enjoying the sickly heat. But as the heat blazed through the glass windows of the cafe, the argument of me loving Autumn wasn’t being brought up for nobody was enjoying the sweltering warmth that suffocated us.   
I was cranky in the heat, and today was no different. I was trying to hold my tongue, whenever Tally would walk past and give me a disgruntled look. Whenever I would ask her to pass something over or tell her customers would need serving, she’d give me a huff or do what I asked but with an eye roll and I didn’t like the feeling of being belittled or being made to feel like I was getting the mick took out of me. To be honest, I was her superior for I had been at the place a lot longer than she, lived here since birth and the people around us were my friends; only her acquaintances.   
I knew her grudge against me because of Issac was still going strong but again, this wasn’t my fault. But I understood, where she was coming from. Although begrudgingly, I put myself in her shoes. Well, I had been in her shoes twice before. Once when I was seeing a guy who I was obsessed with when I was sixteen and Issac himself. So, I sympathised with her but it didn’t excuse her to be such a bully towards me and when she had purposely knocked into me when I was carrying cleaning products to wipe the tables down did I decide enough was enough,  
“Tally, come on this is ridiculous,” I bent down, picking the bottles up. Luckily she had done it when we were in the back out of prying eyes,  
“What are you talking about? I didn’t mean it,” Her voice was so irritatingly high pitched, I wanted to claw my eyes out. I huffed,  
“Look,” I rose to my feet, leaving the bottles, “I get it alright? I get it, I know what it’s like to be dropped by a guy who you like. It hurts, makes you feel so utterly crap but it isn’t my fault, Tal. I didn’t do anything. If anything, Issac’s the one you should be annoyed with, not me,”  
She eyed me and I knew she wanted to get something out of me that wasn’t friendly. She rolled her eyes, smirking,   
“You really think I would be that pathetic?”  
“You tell me,” I shrugged at her and the fact I wasn’t starting an argument, so she could let rip, was making her eyebrows twitch,  
“Well I’m not and I didn’t mean to knock into you alright?”  
She moved passed me and down the break room, heading for her phone. Once seeing I wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, she was completely avoiding it all together. I knew of Tally’s personal life, getting anything she wanted at the flick of her wrist. Her dad and mum had built up an empire, became filthy rich and then the economy crashed and the business suffered greatly. Although they still had enough left in savings to buy them a house for a cheap in the area, Tally was forced into getting a job. So, going from riches to rags and all whilst getting a dreamboat taken off of you; I’d be pretty pissed too,  
“Look, we need to sort this. We work together, we’re in the same circle. It’s stupid, fighting over a boy,”  
“You’re only saying that because he chose you,” She bit back, not looking up from her phone. Her nails flicking at each other as she scrolled through her socials. Her posture was eased but her voice was strained, full of pure bitterness. She was right, if the shoe was on the other foot I wouldn’t be waving the white flag,  
“Maybe so,” I shrugged, “But I think we need to just chill out, you know? We don’t have to be friends but we’re not kids, can’t we at least be civil?”  
It grew quiet and she didn’t glance at me once, continuing to glue her eyes to her phone arrogantly. Her ignorance was bringing out the temper she so desperately wanted to see, my fingers gripped at the wash rag tightly; teeth gritting. I shook my head and bent down, starting back up on picking everything up,  
“All he talked about was you.”  
I stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do. I knew she wanted to see something other than politeness from me, but I wasn’t going to give her it. The old me, the one who used to be the life of parties, would’ve landed a quick punch on her nose; releasing anger out on her that was from trauma I had yet to unleash. But that wasn’t me, not any more. I picked up the final bottle; cradling them in my arms as I stood up straight. I caught her eye and she looked upset but as though she was trying to fight it,  
“Whenever we were together, he’d always say ‘Oh Bea likes this song’ ‘Bea loves vanilla’ Bea likes this, Bea likes that and I was sick of it but when he didn’t talk about you, he was really sweet you know? And I thought, maybe I could,” She sighed, “Maybe I could snap him out of it but then that night, you know at the bar? We walked in and he saw you writing your number to that barman and he wouldn’t shut up about it and then he chased you down the street, when he got back he was completely different, like he’d gone out as Issac and came back as some angry man I didn’t know. Nobody could snap him out of it, not even Kate. In the end I got so fed up with him that I snapped, told him that if he’s so bloody obsessed with you then to just leave me alone. He told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, but I knew enough. Don’t take offence but I couldn’t understand what was so special about you, not in a nasty way!” Her eyes widened and she blurted out the last part, suddenly worried she had upset me, “Just, you’re a girl like me yet he couldn’t get you off his mind, and when he told me he was calling it off because he couldn’t get over you and it wasn’t fair on me I told him how much it hurts… falling for someone who so clearly loves someone else.” She was clearly still a little hurt by what had happened, “Called him a coward. Told him he needs to face up to everything and admit that he loves you. Not just loves you, but he’s in love with you I was so gutted because he was really sweet, and he was not so bad to look at. But I thought, I thought I’d finally found someone I liked,” She tutted bitterly, shaking her head, “And he didn’t want me, it’s never happened before you know,”  
I was stunned, I didn’t know what to say. Every time my mouth would open to say something, it would clamp shut again. I sighed and told her pathetically,  
“Am sorry, Tal.”  
“Don’t apologise, you’re right. It wasn’t your fault, although he could’ve done it nicer it wasn’t his, really. You can’t help who you love, I just think it’s cause I’m so used to getting what I want that it hurt my pride more than anything.”  
I wanted to comfort her and it was then I could see why people were so fascinated with her. For the golden colour of her eyes were so alluring, it made me want to wrap my arms around her and tell her it was okay. She really was so beautiful, and I couldn’t understand myself why Issac had picked me over her. He was an idiot.  
“Do you know what it’s like,” She looked down to the floor. “To… be with someone and feel like you’re just constantly waiting for them to break up with you? For them to… see sense, and just end things. That’s what being with him was like.”   
“I don’t-”   
“It was awful. And I tried so hard. I tried not to be one of those people who compared and got jealous, but it was hard not to. You know?”  
I was stunned into silence, just gazing across to her with absolutely nothing to say. She softened, all hostility melting away and turning into something more friendly,  
“I’m sorry, Bea, I’ve been a bitch. I know I have and you’re right, we may not exactly be best buddies but at least make everyone’s life easier by being civil.”  
“That sounds good.”  
She gave me a gentle smile but her infamous Tally persona came back to light, straightening back her shoulders as she put her phone down,  
“Right, customers need serving,”  
She went to leave when I called her back,  
“Tally?”  
“Yeah,” She looked at me, hovering in the doorway,   
“You’re not a bitch, are you.”  
“Just pretending to be.”  
She sent me a small smile and left me behind. I had to admit, I felt sorry for her. Although I wanted to grip her by her hair and drag her outside for a show down earlier on, I had saw her through the bitchy side that was just another insecure girl, just like the rest of us. I had heard through Kate and Sam that Tally had dated Lords and football players, so to have a man from a little village reject you must’ve been a sore spot. But I was just glad we had sorted it and she got out what she needed to say. I couldn’t help but smile, me and Tally had waved the white flag. Me and mum were okay, and me and Issac were happy. All, was well.

For now.

****  
Another day in work had been gone, we all collected together and joined in The Pilgrim. Aside from Tally, who said she was meeting up with a family member for coffee. But she could always join another time. Me and Issac were at the bar, talking to the landlord whilst Kate, her housemates and Sam sat at our usual table,  
“That is such a lie!” I laughed in surprise, looking at the landlord, “Don’t listen to him, Mark! He’s such a liar,”  
“No smoke without fire, chick,”  
Issac seemed smug with himself, smiling over his pint. Before I had a chance to argue, Mark walked away to serve customers. I turned to Issac, my little legs dangling as I sat on the barstool. I shoved his shoulder playfully and he let out a laugh,  
“I so don’t snore, why would you say that!”  
“Erm, because it’s true?”  
I scowled at him jokingly before I released it, shaking my head as I smiled and muttering some swear words. His cheeks were kissed by the sun, the tan dusting across the bridge of his nose. He had spent most the day helping his mum out in the garden and he had caught a tan; unlike me who went pink and then back to pale - I blamed the Irish in me,  
“So, how was work?”  
“Interesting,” I exhaled, “I spoke to Tally.”  
I watched as his glass hovered from his lips, his eyebrows popped up in surprise,  
“And?”  
“Well,” I began fiddling with the straw of my drink, “She got it out, we sorted it. We’re okay now, I think,”  
“Hmm,” He placed his glass down and took a moment before asking, “And are you alright? With it?”  
“I’ll have to be, what else can I do? She said what she needs to say, I have you. Tough tit,”  
He eyed me, eyes glittering and shining with a familiar look that knotted at my stomach; causing a smile to automatically spring to my lips,  
“What?”  
“I like it when you’re feisty.”  
I mocked him before we leaned over and gave each other a kiss. Pulling apart so he could pick up his drink again, downing the dregs. Again, the glass was put on the bar top before he wiped at the corners of his mouth. I loved seeing him in the relaxed habitat of the pub, eyes getting glassy and body easing. The worries and troubles of the day getting lost between pints,  
“I’ve been thinking-”  
“Don’t do that it’s dangerous,”  
He stopped briefly, telling me to shut up with a giggle before continuing, “We’ve never been on a proper date have we.”  
“Yes we have,” I frowned, “The Sunflowers.”  
“No, that was a day out. I mean like a proper date, with fancy wine and all that bollocks.”  
“Bollocks?” I giggled whilst scrunching my nose,  
“Yeah, you know like restaurants and that. That kind of bollocks,”  
I could tell he was trying to pass off his nerves as though he was being breezy but his avoidance by looking at everything but me gave him away. He wasn’t used to wining and dining somebody, like I thought he had done with Tally. The furthest they had got was a fast food joint, and with his ex he had only ever took her the cinema,  
“Well, what do you want to do?” I asked, completely clueless as what to suggest.  
“I dunno, what food do you like?”  
“Italian.”  
“Biased.”  
“Maybe so,”  
He looked away for a second, waving to somebody who had called out his name to greet him as they entered the pub. His attention came back to me and he asked,  
“So, how does Friday sound? I’ll pick you up at eight?”  
“Will you be wearing a tie?”  
“No,” He snorted.  
“Then I’ll think about it.” I told him cheekily. His mouth opened to protest but then once he saw I was kidding, did he grin whilst turning away.   
“Hey, Mark!” Issac’s grabbed his attention cordially, “Do you bloody work at all? I need a drink!”   
I let out a laugh as he got told to do one with a smile. Mark, I had learnt, was like an uncle to Issac. Although Issac wasn’t born around here, he had been coming here to visit family a majority of his life; therefore he knew more locals than I had realised existed. Charming them all and making his mark, this being no less with the pub owner. He even occasionally got free drinks when the place was quiet and Mark was in a good mood. He brought the tips of his fingers up to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to them and then elevating it Mark’s way, the gesture flying through the air, right from his lips to Mark’s, where it became an overbearing smile and a shake of the head,  
“Right, I need the loo. Get the drinks in and I’ll get the next round,”  
Issac gave me another kiss before leaving for the toilet. I debated on whether joining our table of friends, letting him get the drinks in when he got back. Or stay put, being the good little thing I am; I chose the latter. Sipping at my straw and twirling the rotating barstool side to side childishly. Between the coke and my movement; you would’ve thought I was underage.   
I watched as a man came into view, arms resting on the bar top as he glanced around for somebody to serve him. I swiftly turned out of his way, avoiding eye contact for being from such a friendly area; people always seemed to want to talk to you. He began huffing, tapping his bankcard on the side as though it would miraculously call over one of the bar staff who were currently rushed off their feet. He then noticed me and said,  
“Useless aren’t they”  
I didn’t want to be to rude and ignore him, but I didn’t want him to slag off the people who I had come to know and love,  
“They’re just understaffed,” I tried to defend and he only laughed it off,  
“Yeah well maybe they should hire some more staff, you know, help them out I mean they’re not exactly rammed are they. Put you behind there and it’d have this place packed, am tellin’ you,”  
I frowned at him and kept quiet, hoping it would be the end of the conversation. The only noise that had filtered through the pub for the past few hours was laughter, and loud chatting, and clinking glasses. That was how it should have been. That was how it should have stayed all night. I wasn’t expecting something negative. The man mistook my silence for confusion, not that I wanted him to leave me alone. He leaned over and I cringed, smelling the heavy ale on his breath,  
“I meant you’re attractive, you know?”  
“Yeah, I got what you meant.” I mumbled and he eyed me before leaning back,  
“Are you always this moody?”  
I didn’t answer, completely avoiding his gaze. It was then I noticed out of the corner of my eye I could see him slightly sway; signalling he was beyond tipsy. His shoulder knocked into my drink, desperate for my attention, my mouth dropping open as I was swilled,  
“I said are you-”  
“I heard you!” I snapped, putting my glass down and attempting to wipe away the liquid, “Alright, I heard you. Jesus Christ,”  
He huffed, eyes drunkenly widening as he looked away,  
“Alright, love,” He eyed me, “I’m just sayin’ crack a smile. It wouldn’t hurt,”  
I looked down at my soaked clothes, trying to dry them with my hands,   
“Yes and _I’m_ just saying leave me alone. You’ve bloody soaked me!”   
“Who are you talking to,” It wasn’t a question, more of a threat. In my anger, I hadn’t taken in to account just how drunk he was and how he was twice the size of me. My temper making me forget I wasn’t exactly bursting with muscles. I slowly looked up at him, swallowing upon seeing him properly. He was twice the height of me, even more so as I was sat down. I suddenly felt smaller than I ever had, I was truly struggling to contain my scorn but I didn’t want to upset him further. He had these dark eyes, like they were placed there with threat as their only intent. His hands were large and worn, tattered by their years of grabbing at any and every bottle in their reach, scarred and printed with dirt. The proof of his addiction had scratched numerous furrows into his tanned skin, leaving him looking withered far beyond his years. There was just something about him, a profound hostility. He placed one of his dirty paws on my knee and I flinched as he told me,  
“Your mum not teach you any manners?”

“Is there a problem?”  
We both looked at the source of the voice and my body sighed with relief. But my stomach suddenly knotted upon seeing Issac, his brow was deeply furrowed and his nostrils were flared. Any alcohol he had consumed was completely gone from his face, the flaring temper sobering him. The man turned to him and grinned nastily,  
“Nah mate, was just teaching this girl about the importance of manners.”  
There was something about Issac’s eyes that scared me more than the man’s ever could. I held my breath as I waited for the next move. The pub’s air stilled around us, I looked at Issac’s knuckles as they tightened and turned white,  
“Alright, I think she’s learnt. Now come on, move,”  
“And who are you? Piss off.” The man brushed him off and turned back to me, I looked at Issac and watched his jaw twitch,   
“Who am I?”  
“Issac leave it.” I warned,  
“Shut up, Bea,” He snarled at me before snapping at the man, “Oi, big man. Am talking to you,”  
The man slowly turned to Issac, eyes now narrowing. Almost amused,  
“Mate, I said piss. Off, go away. Little boy,” And that was enough for Issac.  
He lunged at the man; gripping at his collar as he slammed him into the bar. I couldn’t register what was happening, the scuffle attracting the attention of everyone,   
“Issac! What are you doing?!” I cried, unable to comprehend it. I jumped off of the barstool, my hands pulled on the back of his top; only to be pushed away. He bent the man unnaturally backwards over the bar and barked at him,  
“Like cornering girls do you, _mate_? Go on, try it with me!”  
He pulled him up before slamming him back down, the whole pub now watched. Eyes wide, loving the show. The man let out a groan and told Issac he was only kidding, that he didn’t mean it,  
“Issac he said he didn’t mean it! Just let it go!”  
Issac stopped, I could hear his breathing become heavier as he fought with himself. Whether to fight or flight. He snarled,  
“You know what, you’re not even worth it.”  
He let the man go, who almost melted into a mess on the floor. Face drastically pale, Issac straightened himself and I could see he was struggling to shake off his temper. He began to walk away, I followed and we both stopped as we heard,  
“Slag.”  
The whole place was now invested, even Mark and the bar staff stopped what they were doing to watch. I wanted to call out to Mark, tell him to use his authority status to boot the man out. My inner feminist kicked in and I turned back, putting a hand on Issac; silently telling him ‘I got this.’  
“And what if I am? Does that make me any less of a person?”  
“It makes you a slag,” The man scoffed looking for support, but it wasn’t given. Everyone turned away, avoiding him. I don’t know what it was about the word that angered me so much, I hated how it was used so degradingly. Like a woman’s body count determined who she was. Call me fat, ugly and I wouldn’t care but call me something that sexually discriminated me and you’d have a problem on your hands. I let out a laugh, shaking my head before I turned to a bystander and asked,  
“Can I borrow this? I promise I’ll buy you another one,”  
The drunk didn’t get a say, for I swiped his pint and began slowly advancing towards my target,  
“Bea what are you doing?”   
I ignored Issac and began to rant,  
“I’m a slag? What, for rejecting you? Wouldn’t that make me the opposite? Also, how pathetic. Even somebody who’s supposedly one turning you down, Gosh,” I sucked my teeth, “That must be a real kick to your ego right? That’s why you lash out isn’t it, your masculinity must be really bruised. Now, you told me before you were teaching me about manners right? How about this, for manners”   
Before I could think about what I was doing, I swilled the full pint at the man. Completely drenching him. He could only gasp, unable to stutter up anything,  
“I may be a slag, but at least I know my worth,” I slammed the pint glass down and told him, “Go dry yourself off, asshole.”  
The pub watched in awe before the women around me began clapping wildly, even some of the men joined in. I felt like an ultimate boss, walking away smugly. The man who the pint belonged to told me,  
“I think I owe _you_ a pint after that,”  
I laughed at him and watched as Mark bounced the horrible man out by his collar and the pub let out another cheer. I suddenly realised everybody’s eyes were on me and my cheeks burned, I put my head down as I walked over to Issac who smiled at me,  
“I was right when I named you Beatrice Bad Ass hey?”  
“That was a one off,” I mumbled, embarrassedly waltzing over to our table and sitting down. Our table erupted into cheer and I told them to shut up,  
“Bea! Where did that come from?!”  
“I don’t know,” I whined into my hands, “God, that could’ve gone horribly wrong and excuse me! Where were you two?” I jabbed at Guy and Bryan, who hid behind their pints as I pointed at them. They began muttering up excuses and I brushed them off with an eye roll. Issac said nothing, just looking at me. But he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t upset. He was just simply looking at me,  
“What?” I laughed nervously,  
“I guess this would now be the right time to ask you to be my girlfriend, I mean, I can’t not. After just pulling the most bad ass thing, putting someone in their place and then chucking a pint at them! Forget being my girlfriend, marry me!”   
I laughed at him, shrugging him off. He shared my laughter, but it was only briefly. He took my hand in his, stroking it with his thumb like he always did,  
“I’m being serious, Bea, why not make it official? It’s been long enough don’t ye reckon,”  
Although he had told me he loved me, we still hadn’t put a label on it. Until now, and my heart was swelling but with what just happened; I played it cool,  
“Hmm, I suppose,”  
“Are you saying yes?”  
“Well are you asking me?”  
“I just did.”  
“Properly.”  
He huffed playfully, he looked down at the floor before back up at me,   
“Beatrice Flowers, will you put me out of my misery and be my girlfriend?”  
****  
Of course I said yes, my new found coolness quickly melting and I couldn’t hide my happiness. This, earned another cheer from the table and we both went bright red. After putting an official label on it, we spent more time together than ever. A lot of it at his, for his mum and dad weren’t as fussed over us being alone together compared to my own.   
Issac’s room was exactly how I imagined, just a little more organised. His bed was held up by a low frame, pushed underneath a large window with curtains that dusted along the top of it. Just like my room at mum’s, plants and vintage pieces were scattered around the place; occupying shelves and surfaces. A lone guitar, a railing as a wardrobe; patterned fabric lined neatly along with a single coat draped over the edge. Books were piled up on a little chest of drawers in a wonky line, a small bedside table with a lamp and a television on the wall.   
His bed was my favourite, mountain of squished pillows and different coloured throws all threw on top of the quilt. It was cosy and soft, it was no wonder he loved to sleep for when I stayed over I found it a struggle to get out of. He was playing his guitar, tickling the strings and humming to himself. I wasn’t smiling like I usually would, I felt drained and it wasn’t because of the pillows. He looked at me and started playfully plucking at the strings and once he saw I wasn’t going to crack did he ask,  
“Come on, what’s wrong?”  
I was lying on my side, I looked at him and simply shrugged,  
“I don’t know,”  
He chewed the inside of his cheek before he lowered his guitar, leaning it against the bedside table,  
“Cuddle?”  
I nodded and waited for him to lie down so I could be wrapped up into his arms; head on his chest. His fingers began massaging my scalp, letting me ride out my sadness,  
“I hate it when you’re sad.” He mumbled,  
“Me too.”  
I really did, I hated the way it just came from nowhere. Hitting me and then swallowing me. I hated letting Issac seeing me sad, in fact anybody for that matter. His fingers kept walking through my hair, relaxing himself as he played with it. I could feel his eyes on it, watching it slip through his fingertips,  
“Do you think I’m pathetic?”  
“Why would I think that?”  
I gave him another shrug and said nothing else, just listening to the sound of the tv and feeling his fingers. I felt burnt out, like the high from the power I felt in the pub had completely wiped me out. My eyes grew heavy and I sighed, both of us now completely quiet. He began to give quick kisses on my head and sung,  
“Beaaa”  
He shifted and began kissing me more, trailing down from my forehead to all over my face. My mood instantly switching as I let out a genuine giggle, pretending to put up a fight. He pushed through it, flutters of kisses all over. He pulled back and looked down at me,  
“That’s better.”  
I gave him the softest smile I could, glad to have him there. Everyone I held dear to me in the village was supportive of me, but there just seemed to be something special when Issac was. I gave him a small kiss of thanks. As I lowered my head back onto the pillows, he stared at me so intensely that it was a struggle to even swallow. Sometimes when Issac looked into my eyes, it was like everything stopped, and he was a painting, made of watercolours and smooth lines, a work of art that I got to see up close, and stroke over, and admire. His eyes darkened and he leaned down, his kiss became more fevered. After kissing him for the very first time all that time ago, I questioned how I’d ever managed to have any kind of restraint when it came to him. I wanted to be kissing and touching and feeling him always, because kissing him was a sure-fire way to ease my mind and confirm his feelings for me, and mine for him.  
I wanted to bite at his beautiful lips until they were red raw, a reminder of the simplicity of our passion, that at a time my lips belonged to him, my body linked with his, and our hearts beat in time. Our hands groped and touched every part of each other, kissing the way teenagers do when the parents are out and they’re alone. I pushed him back slightly, only to free myself of his sweatshirt. Leaving me in just my thin t-shirt before we came back together, hot and heavy. Our kisses were becoming more and more desperate. He moved himself closer, the sheets thick around the two of us.   
I was completely in awe in that moment, having him between my legs and his lips on mine, our tongues working together and my stomach close to exploding. This was the kind of happiness I had dreamed of, the kind of thing that had once felt like it couldn’t truly exist. I was experiencing it. I was actually in that moment and in that feeling and it was mine. Even if it was fleeting, even if it was temporary, it was mine, and I had felt it, and I couldn’t ever forget a feeling like that,  
“Bea, stop. We can’t.”  
He suddenly pulled back, his lips were red and swollen. He almost looked pained that he stopped, and I was confused,  
“What?” I whined, “Why?”  
“I need to tell you something.”  
“What, you’re a virgin?” I joked, trying to ease the tension. I laughed lowly, amused by my own words. Until I saw that he wasn’t laughing. He was just staring at me, his mouth slightly ajar, his entire body quivering. He looked away from me and my face dropped,  
“Issac?” I asked for a repeat, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining those words,  
“I-I’m a virgin.”   
“Please tell me you’re joking.” But he didn’t. He didn’t say he was joking. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t even smile. He wasn’t joking. My eyes were wide as I unclasped my hand, but I didn’t distance from him automatically. I just stared at him, still kind of wishing that he would tell me this wasn’t actually happening, that he was just trying to throw me off course, just trying to poke fun at me. The look on his face proved he wasn’t.  
“Oh my God” I gasped, “Oh my god.” I pushed at his body so he would move and I could grab the bedsheets and quickly cover myself, shielding myself away as though I was naked from him as he sat upright, placing his face in his hands, and I could see this look on his face, almost like he was irritated with himself. I placed my hands on my temples as the awkward silence we’d created engulfed the entire room, an awkward silence that went on for far too long. I was trying my best to make sense of the truth that he’d given me, but it seemed so implausible. I couldn’t believe he’d let it get to that exact moment before he’d found his gut and told me. We both broke the silence at exactly the same time,  
“Bea-”  
“How! How are you a virgin! Have you seen yourself?!”  
He looked so wound up, so mad with himself, or at me, or something. But I don’t know why I was questioning it that much when I was just as wound up and tight as he was. I couldn’t believe what was happening,  
“Have you thought that maybe I hate the way I look? The way I see myself, I get so repulsed that I can’t bare the thought of somebody else seeing me?”  
It hadn’t. It hadn’t occurred to me at all, I wanted to argue; saying that he had been semi naked in front me before but I thought back; and he had always covered his stomach or covered parts of himself. Even in the lake, he made sure he stayed deep within the water; shielding me from his body. I was completely floored,   
“Issac...” I had no words. No words that could make this better or comfort him. He seemed suddenly, so small. Hunched over slightly, protecting himself from me,  
“I know, it’s ridiculous. My age and a stupid bloody virgin. Believe me, there’s so many times where I’ve wanted to get it over with. Just do it but then when I feel them tug at my clothes, I freeze. Make excuses, end things before I tell them. You’re the first I’ve told, first I’ve let see what’s underneath,”  
“But I don’t understand, how can you not see yourself?!”  
“Could ask you the same thing.”  
He had me there, for I couldn’t talk about being insecure. For although I put on a confident front, that’s all it was. But with Issac.... He was a God. Finely sculpted but still soft, everything about him screamed confidence and beauty. It broke my heart, hearing him talk otherwise. I just couldn’t believe, Issac Waters... A virgin. The concept was something that had never ever crossed my mind, all those fumbles... Him pulling away, excuses... It all made sense,  
“Issac, why didn’t you tell me?”  
“Well, why would I? Why would I tell you that your boyfriend’s a loser?”  
He couldn’t look at me. This was the first time, in his company, he was completely vulnerable. Body in to itself, eyes at the floor. Nails picking harshly at each other. I hated the concept of virginity, I hated how people saw it as somebody’s value. You didn’t lose it, you were frigid and weird. You lose it, your anybody’s game. Nobody could win,  
“You really thought I would think that?” I was hurt, hurt that he didn’t know me. I was with him for him, not the sex. Although it was nice, it wasn’t as though I ached for it. I’d wait forever, the kisses and other things would sustain. I just couldn’t understand how he thought differently,   
“Well why wouldn’t you?”  
“Well would you think the same?”  
“Of course I wouldn’t.” He frowned, looking as though I had offended him,  
“So, why would you think that I’d think the same? Issac,” I moved towards him, “Do you really think it matters? Your virginity doesn’t define who you are, your kindness and intelligence does. The way you know little things about the most random of stuff, the way you refuse to let anybody swat a bee or that you toss things in the bin when you see somebody litter. Those are what important, not whether you’ve slept with somebody. If anything, I envy you. I wish I was still a virgin,”  
He suddenly switched from nervous to irritated, moving from me and standing up,  
“No, no you don’t.”  
I think he momentarily forgotten how I’d lost my virginity, and it was then he sighed. Stuttering,  
“S-sorry, I didn’t-”  
“It’s fine,” I gently smiled at him, “I knew what you meant.”  
He exhaled, frown accompanying it. He began to play with one of his plants, still unable to look at me,  
“I thought I could hide it, you know? I thought maybe I could put it off, but then I fell in love with you and didn’t want you to leave me. That’s why I’ve told you, I didn’t want you to think I don’t want to. I do, I just didn’t want you to see _me_.”  
In that moment, he looked completely different. Any maturity that lined his face replaced by youth, all hardness taken away by vulnerability. This was the closest he had ever let me, closest he had allowed me to him. To his feelings, but it didn’t help the hurt I felt in my chest. I didn’t want to tell him, that I felt sorry for him; because I didn’t want to appear as though I was pitying him,   
“I’d never leave you, never. Please don’t ever think that.”  
“You say this now, Bea, but what about next time and I pull away. Or the time after that!”  
I could see he was getting frustrated, scared almost at the thought of losing me,  
“Then I’ll wait, I’ll keep waiting until you’re ready,”  
“But what if I’m never ready?” His eyes squeezed closed,  
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it, but, I’m here. Now, and I’m here to stay. You ain’t getting rid of me,”   
I watched as he reopened his eyes, letting out a meek laugh but it quietened as quick as it came. Still not looking at me. I was so desperate for him to. Seconds away from waving at him, wanting his attention,  
“I was a fat kid,” He began, “At school, I got bullied to the point we had to move. That’s why we moved here, fresh start. But it didn’t get better, being the new kid and fat it got worst. So, I started at the gym when I got older. Started taking care of myself but it wasn’t enough and that’s when I ended up in therapy, I had never felt so low in my life.”  
Flashes of Issac in a school tie being cornered shattered my heart and it made me want to cry. Wrap him up in my arms and tell him I was sorry. Sorry he had ever been through that. Although I was a little goofy around the teeth and wore glasses to fix a wonky eye, my school wasn’t really a hot spot for bullies so I couldn’t imagine the pain he must’ve felt. He suddenly let out a sniff and I could see his bottom lip begin to tremble, face twisting as he fought back tears. I jumped to my feet, alert,  
“Hey, don’t cry. Please don’t I-”  
I moved over to him and pulled him into my arms, and he didn’t push me away like I had braced myself for. Arms coming around me, holding me so tightly it hurt. But I let him, let him hold me as close as he wanted. His face buried into my shoulders and he let out a tiny sob, I shushed him. Cooing him, telling him I had him. This was the first time I completely saw him, introducing me to who he really was and I wish I hadn’t have met him. Wish he kept his sadness locked away for I was so angry, angry at the bullies. Angry at the world that he had been nothing but nice to. I pulled away, hands holding either side of his face. My thumbs wiped away his tears and I told him,  
“You, are worth more than they will ever be. Alright?”  
He nodded before his face twisted again and buried back in to my shoulder. Allowing himself to sob. Having somebody as strong as Issac be so sad left me helpless, desperate for somebody else to tell me what to do. But, there was nobody else who could help him right now; only himself.

****  
His insecurities were suddenly a lot more apparent, now that he had confessed to me and although we were working on it; he struggled to contain it now he had opened the lid. But that didn’t stop me from reminding him every single minute I could how beautiful and loved by everybody he was, I had yet to say I love you but he knew I wasn’t ready and reminding him just how much everyone around him loved him seemed to be enough. Of sorts.  
But I couldn’t lie, his insecurities were wreaking havoc on our relationship. For with insecurity, came paranoia and temper. Whenever my phone would bleep; his eyes would dart to it and the automatic asking of who was it came. Whenever we were out, he’d stand behind me; eyes warding off any unwanted predators. I couldn’t lie, it was becoming unbearable. I knew how it sounded and I felt alone, struggling for I couldn’t voice my concerns to Kate and Sam; for I didn’t want to involve them. I didn’t want to break Issac’s trust by blabbing about his insecurity issues and where they stemmed from.   
His mum and dad were away for two weeks, meaning we had free roam of the house and I had very rarely left; apart from work. As soon as Issac opened up, it was like he was suddenly stripped of any emotional barrier that had been built up over the years. He rarely ate, he barely slept. Crying himself awake as he relived everything in nightmares. He couldn’t keep control of himself, one minute bouncing off the walls with happiness; to suddenly empty and it was now I could understand why my mum was so tired all the time.   
In all the midsts of being wrapped up in Issac’s troubles and woes, I forgot about my own. I had skipped one too many group sessions, spending all my time with him and I knew it wouldn’t be long before me and mum were called into a meeting. I just didn’t think it would’ve been today, I thought I would’ve had more time; more time to get back on track,  
“Hello Bea,” Dr. Kerry smiled at me as she entered the room, it dropping upon seeing me properly for the first time in a while. I knew I looked like shit, I felt it. My hair hadn’t seen a brush in days and my eyes rarely got sleep any more, for all I thought about was looking after Issac. How he felt, how he was doing, careful to make sure he wouldn’t get upset. I felt like I had lost myself in the relationship, us merging as one person rather than living our own lives separately. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but I was happy. Really, he made me happy; warts and all,  
“Do you know why I’ve called you here today?”  
“Because I haven’t been coming to the sessions?”  
We were in her office, she gazed across from me at her desk. She nodded before saying,  
“Not just that, but because we’re concerned. Including your mum, she says you’ve not been eating. Barely been at home, she’s worried about you.”  
I felt betrayed, mum making out as if I were some delinquent runaway. She knew exactly where I was and what was going on, she knew I was caring for somebody else. If anything, she should’ve been happy for me. Happy I was finally strong enough to take care of somebody else. I scowled,  
“I’ve been at my boyfriend’s, his parents are away so we’ve got the house to ourselves. But I’m fine, really. I’m sorry I haven’t been coming to the sessions, I just kept forgetting.”  
My eyes glanced downwards, unable to keep her gaze. I felt like a naughty kid who was being told off,   
“Bea, there’s no need to apologise. We’re just concerned for your safety, that’s all.”  
“Well I’m fine,” I shrugged, still not looking at her. I listened out for any sign of movement or any indication that whether she was mad at me. But I was given nothing, and it was then I looked up,  
“Bea, I understand that life gets hectic but the sessions are to help you. Help you cope with everything, they’re only there for you,”  
“Yes, I understand that. Really, and I promise I’ll make more effort. My head’s just been all over the place,”  
“It’s because of her boyfriend,” Mum snapped, butting in, “All she does is go on and on about-”  
“Mum!” I cried,  
“-Him, spending all her time with him. I don’t see her any more, and when I do she looks ill!”  
Mum was exaggerating, I still came to see her; but with Issac in tow. Us being alone a very rare occasion. I felt betrayed. Mouth opening to protest, but I was interrupted by Dr. K,  
“And do you feel like this is true, Bea?”  
“Of course I don’t, it’s bullshit!”  
“Language!” Mum scalded me.  
“No, mum, no I’m sorry,” I turned to Dr. Kerry, “Look I’m sorry but I’ came here to discuss what’s going to happen with my sessions, not to be scrutinised,”  
Dr. Kerry went quiet for a really long time before she heavily sighed and announced,  
“Me and the team have came together and decided maybe the sessions aren’t the right thing for you right now, maybe you need to go back to one-”  
“So you’re saying I’m being kicked out?!” I cried, rising to my feet. I couldn’t believe it, I knew I hadn’t been making an effort but I was going to try again, when I got a better grip on things,  
“That’s not what we’re saying, Beatrice, we’re saying maybe when you’re ready that you can go back but until then I think what’s best is we go back to one on one.”  
Her cold and professional demeanour and use of my full name completely stung me. I looked at mum, who averted my gaze; cowardly. I looked back at Dr. Kerry, mouth open in shock. I felt my jaw twitch and I shook my head, eyes blazed with anger,  
“Fine.”  
I heard my mum call out my name as I stormed out but I ignored her, feet pounding against the concrete flooring. My chest grew tight as I reached outside, unable to catch my breath. I felt so helpless, my only support system that could get me through helping Issac was being taken from me. I couldn’t believe it, any of it. The conversation that had just passed, a complete blur. Thick tears glazed over, blurring my vision. I kept my head down, ignoring everything around me. I let out a sob, I felt so hurt and betrayed. I knew I had let Dr. Kerry down, the team, my mum and even myself but I knew I had been given too many chances; and I didn’t take them seriously.   
I frowned, tears suddenly drying up as I heard dull thudding of music. I turned the corner onto Issac’s street; completely bewildered by what I was seeing. People loitered around the garden, the noise of music and party goers getting louder. House music thumping against the walls and shadows danced under the strobe lights that flashed brightly in the broad day light. A few people who had reached their limit were slumped around outside, sloppily smoking cigarettes or simply passed out.   
I eyed them, confused. But they didn’t pay me a blind bit of notice as I moved past them and up the steps. The door was open and I headed straight in, the smell of cigarettes and spilt alcohol hitting me as soon as I entered.   
The further I moved within the house the smell of something illegal made it’s presence known. Well, I wriggled rather than moved for the place could barely contain the intoxicated adults. The inside was trashed, pictures slanted. Ornaments missing from the mantel, parts of the couch cushions ripped open and stuffing everywhere. I didn’t recognise any of these people. My eyes searched frantically for somebody familiar, and it was then I spotted Kate; looking as clueless as I,  
“Kate?! What the hell is going on?!”  
The party was getting beyond controllable. She looked at me, worry creasing her forehead,  
“I don’t know! Issac text me, said he was throwing a party! I thought he meant a few drinks and a few people but I didn’t expect this! Tracy’s gonna go mad!”   
The music hurt my ears, making me cringe,  
“Where is he?!”  
She shrugged at me, both of us flinching as we heard something being smashed. Between the meeting and the painful headache that came from crying, I was beyond angry. Beyond pissed, I just wanted to find Issac and get everyone out of here before damage beyond repair could happen. I began moving again, pushing into people purposely as I shoved them out of the way. I stood on my tip toes, trying to spot my boyfriend and eventually I did. He was in the kitchen, smoking something that wasn’t a cigarette; bottle of whiskey in his hands. Laughing, completely unaware that his beautiful home was getting wrecked,  
“Issac!” I stormed over to him, “What are you doing!?”  
He frowned before seeing it was me, a sloppy smile on his lips,  
“Hey! Beatrice Bad Ass, where’ve you been?”  
There was something about him I couldn’t put my finger on, a look behind his eyes I didn’t recognise,  
“Who are all these people?!”  
“My friends!” He grinned at me lazily, I was given a nod from the little circle around us but I ignored them. Completely furious,  
“Are you kidding me?! I leave you for one afternoon, one! I come back and the house is trashed, your mum and dad are gonna go ballistic!”  
“And?” He shrugged at me, before turning away and talking to the people beside him. It was like the red flag had been waved in my face, all I could see was red. Feel it. Burning through me as it pulsed in my ears and glazed my eyes over. My temper had gone far past anger, beyond furious. I saw a wine glass and swiped it, launching it at the wall. Everybody around me flinched and I pointed at Issac, who stared at me bewildered,  
“Get these people out or I will.”  
“Bea, relax,” He snorted as smoke exhaled from his nose, mimicking a dragon, “Have a pull, you’ll be fine. Just chill out,”  
He had became somebody I didn’t recognise and it was now I noticed the dark shadows and the grease in his hair. He looked like somebody I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to either. He looked completely different from when I had left him or maybe my eyes had been opened by the wake up call of Dr. K and my mother. I shook my head and went off in search of Kate, I found her; cowering in the corner as she could only watch,  
“Watch my back,”  
“Why?”  
I didn’t answer. I searched frantically for the stereo, pushing people out of my way. I pulled the plug and the sound of music was replaced by groans of protest. I told everybody to shut up as I jumped on the couch,   
“GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! NOW!”  
But nobody moved, and my volcanic temper erupted from inside me. Spilling out as I bounced off the couch, I found sudden strength as I picked up the stereo and launched it at the wall. It shattered and I screamed,  
“NOW!”  
People started moving, grumbling and moaning between themselves; not wanting to get caught up in the wrath of a mad woman. I pushed through them and the mission to get everybody out began. I stormed upstairs, going in and out of every room; telling them that it was time to leave. I was called names by boys, given dirty looks by girls (Some I could’ve swore were underage.) But I didn’t care, they had no respect for Issac or his home; so I had gone beyond past caring about being polite. I even shoved people towards the entrance before the house was eventually cleared, even Kate had scurried out. I slammed the door shut and turned around. I winced as I saw the mess left behind, I leaned my forehead against the wall and I heard,  
“Wow.”  
I ignored him. I suddenly had become exhausted, as though kicking everybody out was the last of my energy,  
“I leave you for one afternoon, Issac,” I whimpered, on the verge of tears, “Why did you do this?” I pushed myself off the wall, I was completely deflated and he looked as though he couldn’t care less,  
“What was the reason? Huh? To get back at me for leaving you?”  
“I felt like throwing a party,” He shrugged, folding his arms. I shook my head, eyes filling with tears. I leaned my back against the wall, sliding down and hitting the floor with a light thud,  
“I’m so... _Tired_ , Issac. I’m so tired of looking after you, I leave you and look what you’ve done! This is going to take so much to fix,”  
“Mum and dad will sort it,”  
“I’m not talking about just the house.”  
The hallway became completely quiet, and I knew he was waiting for me to clarify what I meant. I shook my head, looking down at my hands. I let out a sniff, bottles around me. A picture in front of me smashed as it had been ripped from the wall. Broken bits of glass glared up at me and I caught my reflection, I looked terrible,  
“What are you saying?” He finally asked.  
“I’m saying, I can’t do this on my own. I can’t handle this, Issac, I need help. You need help,”  
I finally looked at him, and he still had his arms crossed but it was now that famous frown came back to his face. Something finally familiar breaking through. He looked down at the floor, his jaw locked and gritted. He turned and left for the kitchen, but I didn’t follow. It wasn’t until I heard a bottle being opened did I rise to my feet and headed for the kitchen.  
His back was to me, fingers gripping the counter. His bottle of whisky beside him, his head bent down,  
“I’m sorry, Bea.”  
For the first time, I didn’t want to comfort him even though I knew he needed it. I felt as though I had mollycoddled him enough, made enough excuses for him. I stood still, just watching him,  
“I don’t know why I do the things I do, I just... I get so scared. It’s easy, pretending to be something you’re not. Pretending you’re fine, I was fine until you came along then you just opened it all and it’s like I’m reliving it all over and over again, and I can’t handle it. I can’t,”  
“You can’t blame me, Issac.”  
I watched as he shook his head, he turned to me,  
“I’m not, but before you I was fine. Before you, I didn’t care now look at me. I’m pathetic,”  
He swiped the bottle off the side, bringing it to his lips. He took a huge sip before hissing as he swallowed. Grimacing at the taste,  
“You’re not but what you’re doing is, you can’t do this. You can’t keep behaving like this, you need to speak to somebody! Look at me!” I cried, and his eyes snapped to me, “This is me, Issac, me you’re talking to!”  
“And this is me,” Another shrug, another drink of whisky. It was like the kind and sweet boy I had come to adore was fighting with this new person he was. I couldn’t handle it, I needed to leave him. I needed someone to come and take my place. But I knew I couldn’t go, I left him to drown his sorrows and began cleaning,  
“What are you doing?”  
I ignored him, continuing to try and tackle the bottles. I headed for the cupboard I knew where the cleaning bits where, ragging out the black bags and slamming the door shut. I shoved bottle after bottle into the bag, he said nothing. Just watching me. Moments passed before he told me,  
“Bea, leave it.”  
“Well you’re not going to do it,”  
I let out a hiss as my fingers were bitten by glass that had been smashed on the counter, dropping the bag to the floor; shattering the bottles inside. I clutched my hand, whimpering as it stung. Blood was something I wasn’t a particular fan of and with my lack of sleep; I felt myself getting light headed. Issac came to my side and ignored my protests as he dragged me by my arm to the bathroom upstairs, ignoring the soaked and sticky carpet.   
The bathroom was surprisingly clean, people had been weirdly respectful by not trashing it. Just a few cups abandoned along the windowsill,  
“Sit,” He said to me and I did what I was told, sitting down on the toilet seat; clutching my hand as I attempted to stop the blood flow. I didn’t look at him, but could see out the corner of my eye as he grabbed the wash cloth. Letting the water get warm before he put the plug in and filled the sink, dunking in the cloth and soaking it,  
“And this is why I told you to leave it,”  
He switched off the tap, wringing out the excess. I bit back an argument, too distracted by the pain that pulsed through my fingers. Splinters of glass shining underneath the broken skin. He perched himself on the edge of the bathtub, gently taking my hand in his and he began to clean.   
“Your hands are really soft,”  
His words took us both by surprise, the cloth was held up as he stopped. We looked at each other nervously before shooing the moment. As he swooped over the deeper cut did I hiss, snatching my hand away. He tutted and pulled it back towards him,  
“Keep still,”  
“It hurts,” I whined,  
“It’s supposed to,”  
Another frown from me and another tut from him. Considering he had been knocking back whisky like it was water and the smell of something illegal lingered on his clothes, his touches were tender and attentive. Aware of what he was doing. I watched him as he leaned over, still holding my hand gently, dunking the cloth in the water and wringing it out in one movement before continuing to clean,  
“I’m sorry, Bea, really. I shouldn’t have thrown a party, I wasn’t thinking,”  
“I don’t think you are at the minute, I think your heads just rammed. You told me something pretty big, that’s gotta kick off something in that noggin of yours.”  
He smiled, eyes on my hand and I felt relieved. I hadn’t lost him, not yet,  
“Yeah, but that doesn’t excuse my behaviour. Not the party, not my mood swings. It’s not fair putting it all on you,”  
“But that’s what I’m here for.”  
“You said it yourself, you can’t handle it and I don’t blame you. You’ve got stuff going on too, I’ve been selfish,”  
I wanted to argue back, but he was right and I was too tired. I just watched him as he cleaned, wringing out the excess, etc. Eventually the blood was completely wiped and he tossed the cloth in the sink, bits of murky water splashing over. He told me to stay put and I did. My nerves jiggled my knees, I don’t know why I was nervous. Or perhaps I was anxious, for although he was okay now. Right here, the same couldn’t be said for tomorrow and I was terrified for when his mum and dad came home. For I knew that although he was in the wrong, he needed their support but all they would see was a thrashed house, not a cry for attention.   
He came back, a lot more sober, plasters and tweezers in his hands,  
“This is gonna sting,”  
He told me as he sat back down on the bathtub. He placed the plasters on his knee and took hold of my hand again, tweezers as the ready,  
“Whoa! What are you doing?”   
“Bea, I need to get the splinters out,”  
“I’ll do it,”  
I wasn’t sure what it was about the way he looked at me but before I knew it, my hand was back in his,  
“Ready?”  
“No.” I admitted but he began pinching at the cuts. I whimpered and hissed, and my tiredness had it feeling it worse than it actually was. He was careful as he could be, pausing when I’d let out a cry before continuing again. Picking out the splinters and putting them in the little bin underneath the sink. Eventually, my fingers were cleared of glass and little blue plasters were placed over. He gave them gentle kisses before giving me my hand back,  
“A kiss makes everything better,”  
I wanted to tell him that not everything, but I left the sentiment to be sweet.   
****  
I watched him, his head lay in my lap; hair still damp and eyes closed as he dreamed. My own trailed across his face as my fingers gently traced over him, sketching over the skin. Feeling every scar and bone that was carved into his flesh, so soft and delicate yet strong as they made him who he was.  
He had fallen asleep rather quickly, after me forcing him to get a bath. But he only got it on the agreement I stayed with him, the first time I had seen him naked completely. Open to me. I washed his hair for him, gently bathed his body before helping him out and dry. He didn’t protest when I began to dress him, just simply sat there. Eyes empty of any emotion, mouth quiet of any words. He gripped me tightly in bed, the reality of what he had done hitting him once sobriety riddled his body and he held me; fisting my clothes in his hands; terrified I was going to leave.  
But how could I? He was poorly, he needed me. I couldn’t leave him, not my Issac. My Issac with the eyes so green and the smile so bright. He needed to just rest, sleep. Get himself together and he would be back to normal. Back to how I knew him.   
I debated sleeping myself, but I knew once my head hit that pillow would I become wide awake.  
Once I felt him become a dead weight and his grip on me loosened, I moved from underneath him as carefully as I could. Giving him one last glance, making sure the blanket was tucked into him enough before leaving for the monstrous creation downstairs.  
The smell was a lot worse than the mess, stale cigarette and substance smoke stuck to the walls and in crevice’s of the couches and fabric. Spirits and beer all mixing together with vomit to create a sickly aroma. But the mess was manageable, it appeared I had stopped it before it reached it’s peak. Open the windows and get to cleaning is what I told myself.  
I pulled back the curtains, letting the sunlight pour in and cracked the windows as wide as they allowed. Cleaning was one of my favourite things to do, with the right playlist I found it to be fun but given I had smashed the stereo; it was to be done in silence. I opted to brush and sweep up rather than the hoover for the last thing I wanted was to wake Issac. I mopped every floor, wiped down every surface and was careful when it came to the shattered glass. Overall, I hadn’t done a bad job. I knew the Waters family were looking to redecorate, so I hoped they had saw the broken pictures and ripped couch cushions as a blessing in disguise. Once everything dirty and broken had been binned, and the dishwasher was loaded I made my way back upstairs; quietly as I could. I journeyed the short distance towards his bedroom, slowly pushing the door open and seeing him there surprisingly awake, curled up, fist gripped and pressed against his lips, not acknowledging my presence in the slightest, his bloodshot eyes remaining fixed on his blank wall. I approached and then took my place on the spare side of his bed,  
“Hey,”  
But he didn’t answer me, just stared. I knew he was hurting, but I also knew he was in desperate need of company. I eventually broke the silence,  
“You know, it’s so bloody annoying how gorgeous you are even when you look like complete shit,”  
I brushed a piece of hair out of his face, he flinched and it was like he had to remind himself who I was before he softly smiled as he looked at me,  
“It’s a talent.” His voice was hoarse, sleep still wound around his throat.  
I moved my hand away from him, placing it back to my knee. My eyes searched his face, trying to find anything that gave away what he was thinking about,  
“Can I get you anything?”  
He shook his head,  
“Cuddle?”  
This, he nodded at. I rose to my feet, allowing him to lift the blankets so I could slide in. I settled down on my side, getting a better look at him. This was the first time I had seen his face look so utterly worn out and tired, completely dishevelled. I was desperate for him to look at me and not past me. He sighed slightly and moved his hand from his lips, searching through the heavy sheets to find my own. We intertwined our fingers, and I smiled at him.  
“Where’ve you been? I woke up and you were gone, I thought you’d done a runner,”  
He was trying to joke, I knew he was. But the exhaustion prevented it from being genuine, letting the truth seep through,   
“I was downstairs, trying to sort your mess.”  
I was the one who joked this time and he let out a genuine laugh, exhaling from his nostrils before it soon dropped,  
“Is it bad?”  
“It wasn’t that bad, just need to replace a few couch cushions and pictures.”  
“Mum and dad are gonna kill me.”  
“Probably.”  
I didn’t shield him from the truth or try to reassure him, as he knew what he had done. But I didn’t want to start with the I-told-you-so’s for there was nothing worse being hungover, depressed and someone smugly telling you they were right. We lay in silence a little bit longer, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. The familiarity of the comfort was enough, showing he was still there,  
“I don’t know what to do, Bea, my head’s a mess.”  
“Maybe start by telling your mum and dad, then we’ll go from there.”  
He frowned, chewing the inside of his cheek as his mind went into overdrive as he thought. It was then he finally looked at me, boring his eyes into mine as he told me,  
“I’m so scared, Bea, I’m so scared.”  
I wasn’t sure whether it was because I was so tired myself, but I felt my lip wobble and tears well up,  
“I know,” I sniffed, “I know.”  
We came together, his head buried into my chest as he let out a sob. His fingers let go of mine as he gripped my clothes. His shoulders shook, and it was enough to make me cry. He curled into me, body protecting himself. I attempted to wipe away my tears as he wasn’t looking. My heart breaking in it’s entirety the louder he cried. I shushed him, cuddling him and he held me tighter; scared to let me go. I let him, allowing myself to cry too.  
I was out of my depth. Unsure of what to do, overall. Sure I could comfort him right here right now, and I could hold his hand as he accepted help but I wasn’t sure I could do this in the long run. For I wasn’t exactly trained in this, only ever experienced in my own feelings and depression. But I knew when I was going through it, I would’ve liked somebody by my side. Telling me I wasn’t alone.  
I gave him a kiss on top of his head and my eyes grew heavy, falling asleep before I had time to wake myself back up.


	9. Chapter 9

T  
racy and John had gone utterly ballistic, just like we had predicted. But once I calmed them down and explained everything, did they decide that it was in fact a cry for help. I hadn’t seen him for weeks, we both agreed that he needed to do this by himself; no distractions. Although we still messaged and called, we had yet to see each other in person.  
He was making somewhat progress, accepting help brave on it’s own but given our mental healthy system wasn’t the best; he was stuck on the waiting list and given new medication to sustain him until he was given a slot with a therapist. The beginning process was tiring in itself.   
It was nearing October and the air was bitter, once Issac knew I loved his cardigan with the red and yellow stripes; he gave me it and I very rarely had it off. It cuddled my shoulders, protecting me from the nippy breeze. We decided to meet up, at his favourite field on his favourite bench and this is where we was. It felt like so long ago we had came here, for the first time, when I had told he was golden.   
When we met up, I swore my eyes were playing tricks on me. I didn’t recognise him, his hair was stuck to his head. His nails were bitten and bloodied, his cheekbones cut into his face. He didn’t look anything like the boy I knew,  
“How’ve you been?”  
I wanted to tell him that I had truthfully been doing really well, I was exercising properly again. Eating good and feeling better than I had done in months,  
“Fine.”  
He nodded and looked down at his fingers as they fiddled with each other in his lap. I watched the field before me as it swayed, the lavender still colourful even though we were coming into Autumn,  
“They’re perennial.”  
I looked at him, frowning with question. His eyes flickered to the lavender then back to me,  
“Lavender, they can endure any weather.”  
“Is that another fact of the day?”  
“Might be.”  
We smiled shyly, looking away from each other. It didn’t feel like we were a couple, more like two friends who had a crush on each other. I wanted to close the distance between us, give him a proper hug. Kiss his face, tell him how much I missed him but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything of the sort, feeling as though he was more alien to me than ever,  
“I’ve missed you,” He finally spoke, avoiding looking at me,  
“I’ve missed you too.”  
His fingers found mine and he intertwined them, pulling me closer to him. Our shoulders touching, he smiled at me and I at him. It said everything for us. When I felt his lips kiss my forehead, did I take the invitation to nestle my head on his shoulder, his cheek landing on top of me. He felt so familiar, like I was coming home. From the very beginning, Issac had been my home, but it had taken building something for me to entirely comprehend and accept that. More than any city or any building or any other person had been, he was my home. I knew that as long as we had each other, I would never feel lost or alone or unsure. He had brought me home, in every sense of the word, and what a beautiful home it was,  
“I have an appointment, well a meeting,”  
“Oh?” I was surprised he had been given one so soon, I felt him nod,  
“It’s next week, if you’re not in work would you come with me? I-I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want-”  
“I’ll come.”  
He settled with this, body sinking back into me. We stayed embraced, passing conversation and sharing laughter when appropriate and once the sun was lowering; did we decide to walk home. His hand in mine,  
“So, it’s next Thursday. At four, at the hub.”  
We were now outside of my house, and I debated on whether inviting him inside. But, I decided against it. I gave him a smile, telling him I would see him then. He nodded, giving me a small kiss before he set off; and I watched him leave. As he turned the corner did I let out a smile, happy to see he was doing okay. Happy to have him with me, happy that we had decided on when we were seeing each other again.

  
****  
I remember black. Black of the funeral wear, black cars and black rain clouds. The world losing it’s colour.   
I remember the small chit chat. I remember keeping my head down. I remember the sympathy on their faces.   
The village grieved for weeks, nobody looking at each other; everybody too lost in their own sadness to make conversation. But they didn’t feel it, not like we did.  
If I had known that last kiss, that last conversation, that last smile was the final; I would’ve invited him in. Would’ve held him as tightly to me as I could. Maybe things would’ve been different, maybe I would’ve changed his mind but that’s all it was. Maybes and what ifs.  
My grief was ravenous, feeding off of me and never feeling full. It never resting.

He was found, 6:45 am exactly by a dog walker. Body swaying above the lavender field, it sickened me to know we had only been there two days prior. I knew he had done it, in a place only a stranger could find him. For he didn’t want the emotional burden of somebody he loved finding him, but he was mistaken. For everybody in the village loved him, everybody knew who he was.   
I couldn’t remember as the days turned into months, finally reaching the dreaded first year. A whole year without Issac Waters, and a large chunk of me had died with him. After I couldn’t take the sad stares or the ‘How are you’ From strangers, I locked myself away. In my bed where tears upon tears shed, heartbreak curling around me in the form of my blankets and his cardigan. I obsessed over our text messages, torturing myself with thoughts of how I could’ve done something. But so did everybody, everybody felt as though they played a role in the suicide.   
I had gone from sadness to anger within months. I was so angry at him, angry at what he had left behind. Angry that he didn’t give getting better a chance but I knew his soul was tired. I knew he was searching for something being alive couldn’t give him. It being amongst the stars and sky.  
With being a year, I decided to walk up to the lavender field and my stomach turned upon seeing Kate. I couldn’t look at her, it was too painful.   
The field was more open, as the family fought tooth and nail to get the tree taken down. They fought for a plague to be screwed into the bench and I found it ironic, celebrating his life in a place he died,  
“Hey,” Kate spoke softly beside me as I sat down, I only hummed in response. We sat in silence, staring out. The golden plague between us glared up at me, the writing taunted me. I wrapped the cardigan around my shoulders tighter, feeling colder suddenly. Kate was the first to break the silence,  
“Tracy’s been asking about you,”  
“Really?”  
“Mmhm, always does. You’ll have to come see her sometime.”  
I didn’t reply, confirming nor denying whether I would. As, the more I looked at Kate; the more I could see him in her smile and it ached my heart. I couldn’t imagine how I would react if I were to see Tracy, I dare not even think about it. We both grew quiet, lost in thought. I was alarmed as she let out a sniff, gritting her teeth,  
“This is bullshit.”  
I felt my sadness wiggle my lip and I looked down,   
“I know.”  
“I just can’t believe he’s gone, I just can’t believe he...” I watched as she shook her head, gritting her teeth as she held back tears. Her words failing her, but I knew exactly what she meant. I couldn’t imagine the pain embedded inside of her, for if I felt this heartbroken; I couldn’t imagine how she felt. Her best friend since birth, gone. Taken from her when there was so many more memories they were to make. I wanted to ask her, ask how was Tracy and John doing. How were they holding up, but I dreaded the answer. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how empty their house must’ve felt, touches of Issac lingering about the place whilst the man himself was gone.   
“I,” She sniffed, wiping away her tears as she pulled something from her bag, “Have something for you.”  
I watched as she rummaged inside of her bag and it was then I noticed the shining St. Christopher on her chest. I wanted to snatch it from her, claim it for myself. She turned to me and it was then I could only see him, the identical green and the deep dimple stung me. She handed over a white envelope and my hands shook as I took it, looking down as I saw an empty space. I looked at her and frowned,  
“Don’t open it, not whilst I’m here.”  
I respected her wishes and tucked it away inside the cardigan, wrapping myself back up. Kate sighed as she told me,  
“I’m sorry, Bea, I can’t do this.”  
I nodded, I understood. Completely, for I wanted to run away too. She gave me one small smile before leaving and I let out a sniff as I watched her, watched her become a stranger right before my eyes. I waited until she was out of sight before I pulled out the blank envelope and it was now I noticed the dried tear stains from past sadness given by Kate. I braced myself, fingers slipping inside to pull out the paper.   
I was scared as to what it could be. Scared what was written on it once I unfolded it. I couldn’t, not for a moment. I stared forwards, fighting with my sadness as it threatened to spill out. I told myself to grow up for if Kate could read it, so could I.  
With shaking fingers did I open it and let out a sob, there was no suicide note. No telling or insight into why he had done what he had done. Just three little words that completely washed away any strength I had accumulated over time;  
  
**I love her.**

****  
I couldn’t believe it, in his last few moments on the Earth; I was the only one on his mind and I felt it was selfish of him. Not giving his mum and dad, or even Kate a thought. I wanted to rip it and throw it into the wind, but I didn’t. I clutched it tightly, careful not to soak it. For this, was the last piece of property he owned and it was mine.   
Again, we had done things in timing without realising for I had wrote him a letter also. But mine was more angry, more sad and more full of longing. Some days I wanted to burn it, send it’s embers up into the wind in hopes he would get the message. Others I wanted to keep it, in my drawer. To myself.

Issac Waters, I can’t believe I never got to tell you I love you. But I do, I do love you. I always will. You came into my life, and I felt as though you were given to me. To come to me when it was needed. I love you so much, so much it hurts me to the point where I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe, all I think about is you. I just want to know why, why would you leave me. Was I not enough? Were we all not enough? Maybe... Maybe we weren’t. Either way, I’ll never know now. There’s so many words that were left unsaid, but that was always you wasn’t it? Always leave me wondering. Always leaving the answers to questions in the air.... But I wouldn’t have had you any other way. Issac, you left such an impact on me and now I don’t know what to do. You were my fire, my sun and now I’m cold and I hate you for it. Or maybe I don’t.... I don’t know, I just know that I miss you. I miss you with every fibre in my being, it shreds at my teeth like pink tissue. I love you I love you I love you. I know you’d be laughing at me right now, telling me I was being daft. But I just miss you so much, I look around me and there’s just shadows of you. Memories of you in every part of the village.   
They say there are three loves in your life, and although I liked to think you were my last but I know you aren’t. You paved the way to make room for the love that is most important: Self love. You taught me to appreciate the little marks on my skin, telling me how they were art and stories. Laugh at my clumsiness and smile at my mistakes; for they made me who I am today and I can’t thank you enough. You were destined for bigger things, and I guess you went off in search of them between the sun and the stars. I hope you’re thinking of me as I am of you.  
Stay golden Issac, I love you always.  
Yours forever, Beatrice Bad Ass.


End file.
